The Shimmering Veil
by Maddux
Summary: Can these scarred souls form an alliance between two kingdoms? Canon pairings, AH, AU. Re-post.
1. Chapter 1

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Carolus – Charlie_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

Carolus was a mighty king with vast lands and endless, unmeasured wealth. For much of his life he conquered and acquired, burned and built, forged treaties and enslaved. He constructed a gilded palace which outshone any edifice that was known to all the nations of the world. In it, he lavished his halls with the finest of jewels and gold and colorful silks and tapestries.

The king had hundreds of wives. He took a wife nearly as often as he took a meal. His sons he appointed to oversee his multitude holdings throughout his empire. His daughters were renowned for their otherworldly beauty.

His sons were greater in number than his daughters, and there was a dark, dark motive as to why this was true.

For all his power and wealth, he was a very vain man.

King Carolus valued beauty, above all else, in the females that resided in his golden palace. If the fruit of his loins was in any way found wanting, that child was put to death, regardless of how favored the mother of the babe should be.

Carolus was the ultimate judge of the physical attributes of his children. He prided himself on his keen and refined eye. After all, he was not the man, nay, the King of renown because he had accepted anything less than perfection.

He would not suffer an ugly daughter in his household.

There was always work for a stout and healthy son; the king had more estates and farmland than he had time to deal with.

Daughters were only valuable for one thing.

Forging convenient alliances with his enemies was a much easier task if a comely princess came with the bountiful dowry. Ugly daughters did not make good bargaining pieces, nor did they garner a substantial bride price.

And his empire was greatly expanded using these methods.

In his thirty-ninth year, Carolus took his three-hundred-second and last wife. Her name was Rianna. She was the one woman who captured him completely. She held the heart of the king in the palm of her dainty, perfumed hand. Her beauty was captivating, her voice, enchanting, and her character, effervescent.

Anything desired by the lovely Rianna was granted to her, and more often than not, it was given to her by the king's own hand.

It was with much rejoicing that the kingdom celebrated the news that Rianna was with child. The radiant and favorite wife of the king was sure to bring about the most magnificent of offspring. It was speculated that if the babe were a boy, he'd be the most handsome of men. If the babe were to be a girl, her beauty would be legendary.

Rianna's pregnancy with Carolus' babe was not without difficulty. The goodly king oversaw that the best of physicians tended her.

At the time of the birth, however valiant his efforts, the greatest physician could not save her.

Rianna passed just as the tiny baby girl was brought forth into the king's world. Carolus' tears blinded his eyes as he tenderly held Rianna's and his child. He loved the babe before he'd even judged her countenance worthy.

As the king's tears receded and he cleaned the babe, he saw her features for the first time. Grief struck him ten times over as he regarded the little child. The left side of her face was, indeed, beautiful; exquisitely beautiful – perfection wouldn't have been an adequate description. The right side was heavily deformed. The little ear was misshapen. Her cheek was marred with red marks and looked to be underdeveloped. Her eyelid drooped, and her eye appeared to be blind, as it was covered by a white, cloudy film. The king was heartbroken. He was heartbroken that Rianna, his truest of loves, was gone.

The king wrapped the babe tightly, careful to conceal its unfortunate deformity. Carolus could not kill the only child of the union with the woman he loved so dearly. He could not bear to think of terminating the life which so precious a woman carried inside her womb, giving this child life with her own death.

The king decided to hide his daughter's face. No one would be the wiser.

He declared her to be the fairest beauty to ever be born in his kingdom. He declared that should anyone set eyes upon the bright sun of her glorious visage, they would be put to death. King Carolus' word was law.

Belshamena she was named, and formally introduced to the people from atop the royal balcony of King Carolus' palace. The kingdom had amassed in front of the palace for a chance to glimpse the artistry in the vision of the child that had been borne of Rianna.

They were greatly disappointed when they saw that the child in the hands of the king was carefully veiled. They listened in awe at the news of her elegance and enchanting loveliness. They trembled in fear at the threat of death should anyone look upon her face unveiled.

Carolus kept Belshamena's secret. He guarded her most vigilantly and only the most trusted caregivers knew of Belshamena's curse. Carolus paid them handsomely for their silence and discretion.

Belshamena grew and thrived in the golden palace and wanted for nothing material. The king was ever diligent that her veil was securely in place. He made the veils an enjoyment for Belshamena, having them sewn from the most luxuriant of fabrics and detailed with extravagant and expensive embellishments.

The princess was respected by her half brothers and sisters, perhaps they feared crossing the king's edict, but she was never allowed to befriend them. Belshamena understood why she must wear her veil at all times. Her father had explained that she was different. She knew that she was loved and accepted by her father, but she was firmly warned that others may not be so accepting. She was humbled by her deformity, and knew that it would greatly distress the king if anyone found out that she was not as beautiful as they'd been led to believe.

She protected her father's vanity as fiercely as she protected her own.

Her veil became her shield.

She found that she could view the world fearlessly from behind her veil. She learned to sing and to dance, but she kept the dancing to a minimum. Her limited eyesight took a great toll on her depth perception, and this made her the slightest bit uncoordinated. Even so, she entertained the king and his wives and her brothers and sisters with a freedom that belied her true timid nature. Belshamena knew that she'd never be brave enough to do these things if she wasn't hiding behind an elaborate veil.

Everyone loved hearing Belshamena's voice. Just like her mother, she was enchanting, effervescent.

Belshamena was clearly the favorite daughter, the apple of the king's eye. At court and at banquet, she was always seated in a place of honor.

The account of her beauty and magnificent voice traveled throughout Carolus' kingdom and even into neighboring provinces.

These reports also reached the ears of a warrior prince across the continent. Prince Ewald was a battle hardened man. He'd warred for everything that he'd gained, furthering his father's lands and kingdom, which would one day be his own.

The stories of the great King Carolus and his golden city had intrigued him. He knew that he could do well with an ally like Carolus. Even Ewald's powerful armies would be no match for all the resources King Carolus had at his disposal.

The prince was in his twenty-sixth year and his father, King Caelius, had been urging him to take a wife – a woman who would be the future queen of his people.

Women were scarce in his warrior nation. There certainly were no women of royal blood waiting in the halls of the lesser known kings between his lands and the lands belonging to Carolus.

Ewald had also heard the stories of the daughters of the golden palace. He'd heard tales that Carolus' daughters were fairer than the flowering meadows of his homeland – sweet-smelling and soft, with voices as clear as the murmuring stream.

Ewald would go to the golden city, strike a friendly treaty with the king, and while there, he'd find his bride.

* * *

**A/N: After much soul-searching as to what I wanted to do with this story, I've decided to leave it here, in FFn land. I didn't want to be a part of the firestorm that is Pull-to-Publish Fan Fic. I'd rather make it as an author under my own merit with original works. Maybe one day it will happen. This story will be re-worked - hopefully better than the first time around. As always, thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

_Iyaswic __–_ (Yahz-vic) Jasper

* * *

"Your Majesty! I must beg pardon, but there are reports of an army threatening to breach the city gates! It is rumored that they bring war upon this great kingdom. My guard is at the ready. We attack on your command." Marstan, Captain of the Royal Guard and twelfth son of the king, knelt down in full armored regalia at the king's feet.

Carolus rose from his seat at his planning table. He came to his son and placed his hand on Marstan's head.

"Rise, and relay all that you know of the coming threat."

"He comes from the west, a barbarian prince. He is known to burn what he cannot have. Our archers can take him out."

The king nodded. "Do we know for sure that war is the reason he makes his presence known? A seasoned warrior such as he would not make the mistake of approaching the Behemoth so boldly in the light of day. No, Captain, let us go and see what it is this warrior wants."

Carolus raised an eyebrow at his personal guard, Aquila. "Go and see that the women are safe in their chambers. Notify palace security of the situation. When you have finished those tasks, go and see to Belshamena's safety."

His guard moved efficiently, wasting none of the king's precious time.

The king rode with his men on great warhorses down to the city gates. They were all armored and created an imposing image before the high walls of the city. Carolus was displeased to notice that the walls were cracking, the stone wearing away.

King Carolus carried a sharp, double-edged battle sword, and at the age of fifty-six years, he still had the strength and deadly skill it took to wield it. The guard of the gate and the archers on the battlements were going to fat. The Golden city had seen little action of late. Carolus' mood turned dark.

The king and his men watched a cloud of dust in the distance morph into a small army of men on horseback. The closer the army traveled, the more detail Carolus could pull from what he saw.

The approaching men were decked out in heavy leather armor, dark in color, with tunics underneath that were suited to hide them better in the forests. As they drew near the wall, the interlopers spread out in a straight line, placing their ranks in a semi-circle around the great city's gates.

A man with shoulder-length flaxen hair spurred his heavy mount forward and addressed the Royal Guard. "I come in the name of Prince Ewald, future king of the western territories. We are your enemy. Henceforth, we wish to call you ally."

"And which of you is this prince of the western territories?" the king asked of the warriors.

There was a very stagnant pause as none of the western men moved, nor did their horses wiggle a flank under the heat of the mid-day sun.

**.**

Her father was hold up for two days in his warring chambers. The hearsay was that he was deep in negotiations with the warrior nation from the west; along with that, the prince of that country sought to marry a daughter sired by the mighty King Carolus.

Belshamena knew she'd never marry; the king would make sure she was protected and concealed for the rest of her life. The news of a daughter being married off for the purposes of this alliance did not affect her in the least. No man would want her if they glimpsed what the veil kept hidden.

There was talk, try as she might to avoid it, that did catch her attention. Reports of the impressive western warriors had swept through the halls of the golden palace with a fast-paced fury. In the early morning hours, the foreign men-at-arms skirmished in full view of the daughters' chambers, practicing sword and knife play, as well as hand-to-hand combat.

The foreigners did not fight like her countrymen, her brothers. No, the warriors from the west fought passionately. They poured their whole being into the fray, using ingenuity and their surroundings to defeat their opponents. Very unlike her father's Royal Guard. The soldiers of the golden kingdom fought mechanically, coldly, with very little feeling. There was even laughter and good natured bantering coming from the crowd of barbarians.

It was exciting to watch the barely clad fighters. Belshamena found herself sneaking to the archway leading out to her personal balcony just to catch a glimpse of the hypnotic brutish display. The play of toned, glistening skin over rippling, working muscles had Belshamena staring in wonder and awe. She'd never witnessed such innate masculine grace within the walls of her kingdom.

There was a certain warrior amongst the army who had captured Belshamena's complete awareness. His skin was pearly in the bright, hot sun. His sweat-darkened hair shone brown, woven in with threads of gold and red as it fell and clung to just above his heavy shoulder blades.

His jaws were squared and covered with several days' worth of dark scruff. The distance from her window hindered her from seeing much more detail, but she could make out the presence of several prominent scars on his body.

Belshamena didn't mind that he had scars. She liked the fact that the man had scars. But they showed that he had a fierce nature, unafraid of the fight, unhindered by the threat of danger. This made her fearful of the barbarous warrior. She hoped that she never found herself in his midst.

Belshamena watched the warrior while she could. She'd never be so bold as to stare at him outright if he were ever in her presence, not unless she was hiding and hidden securely behind her veil.

But she knew she'd never have the opportunity to try.

**.**

Ewald finally struck an accord with the king.

After much time hashing out a suitable dowry to go with his bride, the king and the prince told numerous stories and of many experiences they'd had while warring. Ewald found that he truly liked the old king. There was much he admired about him. And much he didn't understand about him.

After being cooped up in the king's negotiating chambers, Ewald was ready to relieve some tension by working with his men. They'd set up camp in a lush courtyard within the palace walls. A perfect place, indeed, for performing for the king's daughters, in a most unobtrusive way. Ewald, as did the rest of his men, heard the womanly chatter all around them as they threw themselves into training. There was nothing like having a feminine audience, ripe for the picking.

Ewald had been sternly warned that he, nor his men, was to bother the women of the palace. The king had more wives than days of the year, and they were to be treated with the utmost respect – as well as given a wide berth.

As Ewald stepped away from his opponent and brother, Iyaswic, he raised his eyes to the balconies overlooking the courtyard. There were young women aplenty. All were dressed in their finery and their long, breezy tresses were topped with golden diadems.

And then, higher up in a small tower, something sparkled and caught Ewald's vision. Peeking from the corner of that balcony window, he saw a shimmering cloth gently catch on the light breeze. It was a woman. Her face was completely covered by a veil, held in place by a heavy head-piece laden with fine gold and jewels. Long, rich brown ringlets fell down her back. He could also see pale, dainty hands clutching at the stone wall by her shoulder.

Ewald was instantly curious about this shrouded woman. Someone so hidden must be a great treasure indeed. He glanced about him at the other balconies, and saw the blatantly curious looks of the women overlooking the activities on the courtyard. It was obvious that they were desirous of attention from him and his men. It was a flattering feeling to be so openly admired amongst such feminine beauty.

But Ewald wanted to discover what a pair of eyes, hidden from his view, had to reveal – beneath the scintillating cloth. He knew she had been watching his men training, and most likely, watching him. This pleased Ewald to think on.

Should he climb up to her balcony? He knew it was forbidden, and betrayal would greatly displease the king. Ewald did not want to ruin the good rapport he had with Carolus, as he'd been invited to stay the month in order to make the decision on which of the king's daughters would be his bride. It was a most gracious offer.

Ewald kept his feet firmly on the ground. He'd have time enough to learn about the daughter behind the shimmering veil.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

_Iyaswic __–_ (Yahz-vic) Jasper

* * *

That night, at banquet, a great welcoming feast was held for Ewald and his countrymen. Everything was laid out before them on long, low tables – they sat upon cushions as they dined on fresh fruits and vegetables and succulent meat.

The king's daughters were paraded before Ewald as he feasted. There was a hundred of marriageable age. They danced before him and spoke explicitly with their eyes. For Ewald, it was wholly unsettling – and exciting at the same time.

It was as though each girl had been trained to sell herself – and each one vied to capture Ewald's favor – tried to stand out above the rest of her sisters. It was dizzying to watch, and almost sickening, the display of shadowed eyes and reddened lips and exposed flesh.

As the evening wore on, Ewald eventually grew tired of the never ending show. Wine flowed freely and even the king seemed to be deep into his cups.

The king bellowed for his daughters to stop parading about and called for another daughter to take the floor.

"Belshamena! Sing for me..." the king slurred before taking another swallow from his goblet.

Ewald watched as the woman concealed by the veil, off to the side of the king, visibly froze in place – her shoulders seized up, and he saw the nearly imperceptible shake of her head. She did not want to get up in front of the strange crowd – that was clear for Ewald to see. Ewald found her behavior puzzling, different from all the rest of the daughters who knew what was expected of them and sought the hand of a prince.

The veiled woman, however, had not expected to get up before a potential match and perform. This was an intriguing turn of events to Ewald's way of thinking.

The hall around him settled and hushed. Another indication that this was an irregular happening.

Belshamena meekly consented, walking into the middle of the hall, positioning herself in front of her father, in front of Ewald.

Her head was lowered; she was weakly wringing her hands together. Then she closed her fingers tightly into a fist before starting a song. The song was a simple story about the sun and the inviting shade of the trees which incorporated dance to enhance the telling of it.

Belshamena, the veiled one, moved with grace and purity and beauty – which pleased Ewald. She was absolutely mesmerizing. Ewald could not take his eyes away from her. The flowing of her garments billowed beautifully around her, her hair flying wildly behind her. She sparkled in the flickering candlelight lit throughout the hall. Her voice rang so sweetly in his ears. He felt his cold, barbarian heart swell in his chest with an unfamiliar emotion.

Ewald had made up his mind. It was the mysterious Belshamena that he wanted to take as his wife.

As soon as her song ended, Belshamena knelt to the floor in an elaborate and humble bow – honoring the audience and honoring her father.

Ewald stood as she unfurled herself from the floor with an elegant flourish, a look of longing and hunger gripping his features.

**.**

Belshamena felt the eyes of the barbarian prince follow her every step. She'd never been so flustered while performing in the great hall. Then again, she'd never expected that her father would call her out to sing in front of strangers. She felt the slightest sting of betrayal when he'd shouted her name, demanding she sing a song.

As she rose from her low bow, her gaze met that of the prince's. She could finally see what he looked like up close. She was startled by what she saw. A long, vertical scar sliced from his darkly slanted right eyebrow all the way down to his jaw. He looked terrifyingly deadly. He was big. And even to banquet he'd worn bracers and leather chest armor, leaving his muscled upper arms bare.

The expression on his face was puzzling as well. He looked like a man gravely in need of… something.

Belshamena quickly averted her eyes, turning back to her seat by the king. The prince had a dominating aura of command about him, and it was daunting being in his presence.

The celebration soon ended and Belshamena was allowed to return to her chambers. She made sure her door was securely bolted so that she could finally remove her covering.

Having her own, private chambers was a relief for Belshamena. She did not have to hide in her own sanctuary. The head-piece that held her veil in place found its nightly perch on her dressing table. The veil, she draped over the reflective mirror. She avoided looking at her image at all costs.

The light of the silvery moon beckoned her to her balcony where she had laid out cushions to lounge upon. She had a harp, a gift from her father, which she would sit and play – for herself and for the stars above in the midnight sky. She would even hum along. Belshamena appreciated her own vocalizations, and all her life, she'd made music and sung songs for her own comfort and enjoyment.

She had so few freedoms and no close friends; she did her best with what she had. So she sang quietly, reverently, and plucked harmoniously at her harp.

Her high balcony was a wondrous place, especially under the deep cover of night. Sometimes she would sit out at a late hour and listen to the sounds around her, trying to decipher what she was hearing. Some nights she spied on unsuspecting people as they move about the courtyard or on their own balconies.

She made sure to conceal herself, hanging sheer material around the railing and placing tall planters with night-blooming jasmine in strategic areas. It was her little hidden piece of paradise.

This night, after she grew tired of plucking at the strings of her harp, she sat back, resting her head, tilting it to look up at the sky, enjoying the scent of jasmine floating on the air around her.

She heard voices behind her, on another balcony – deep, male voices.

The voices were coming from the opposite tower, from the chambers directly across the courtyard from her balcony. The voices matched up with the foreign visitors – the barbarians.

Belshamena listened closely at the deep timbre rumbling from within their big, muscular chests. It wasn't an unpleasant sound.

She wondered what they were saying, as they were speaking in their own native tongue.

After a while, the foreigners' conversations dwindled down to just two voices.

"Ewald," a smooth voice cut through the night. They sounded like they'd stepped out to the edge of their balcony. "Have you any fortune at finding your bride amongst the herd of royal daughters?"

"Aye," the prince chuckled lowly and Belshamena's ears perked up at this – she didn't miss that they were now speaking in her language.

"I knew the moment I laid eyes on her," he said simply.

Belshamena was curious at this as well – who had he decided upon? She had so many comely sisters, and any one of them would be happy to have the favor of the exotic Prince Ewald.

"You move quickly, brother, but you always were the decisive one. Tell me of her beauty – which one of the vicious she-swans has garnered your approval?"

"Ha! Iyaswic, you shall see... all in good time," the prince said, a hint of smug secrecy coloring his tone.

"You are closed tighter than one of the king's vaults, brother. Come! Can you tell me nothing of her?" The prince's brother fished for information.

"Oh, well, she... has a lovely singing voice..." Ewald said softly.

"Lovely voice! But there were no daughters that san— Oh! Ewald! You speak of the dancing wench? The one covered from head to foot? You've been conked on the head too many times in battle. No... I'll grant that our mother dropped you, and more than once! You've completely gone mad, haven't you?" Iyaswic grumbled disbelievingly.

"What? No! I don't believe so. And do not speak so ill of our mother. She ought to be sainted for birthing the two of us and raising us up into adulthood. Why did you not like the daughter Belshamena?"

Hearing her name, her fears were confirmed. The barbarians were speaking of her! She was surprised – and afraid all at once. Her heart began pounding with a fierce rhythm.

"You saw her, Ewald, she's most likely covered that way for good reason. She's probably a hag. I would not put my hopes in one that even the King, himself, cannot bother to look in the face on a daily basis..."

Those words hurt, painfully cutting into her heart. Belshamena felt her eyes start to water and her lips tremble. Was what the brother said true? Is that the reason her father kept her veiled? Because he couldn't stand to look at her? She'd always thought that her father loved her – with or without her veil.

She did not care for this barbarian Iyaswic.

"I'll wager she's not a hag, dear brother. I've heard stories that she's the most beautiful woman born in this kingdom, and that the king forbids anyone to look upon her face. Now, does not that sound much nicer than your theory?" the prince asked of his brother.

"Well, I don't believe it," Iyaswic grumbled. "That is only hearsay."

"Believe what you like, little brother – you will find out soon enough."

Belshamena smiled sadly, wiping away an errant tear. There was no way he could find out the truth about her. Her father had protected and sheltered her for far too long. He would never sign her life away to a prince who was only out to further his kingdom. Would he?

* * *

**A/N: Would you help a struggling FF writer out, and go and vote? My Little Runaway is up against some stiff competition in The Lemonade Stand's Fic of the Week contest. Vote for My Little Runaway here: tehlemonadestand . net**  
**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

_Iyaswic – (Yahz-vic) Jasper_

* * *

Ewald had yet to tell his brothers every detail concerning the treaty he'd forged with Carolus. There were certain surprises he was planning to spring on them when the timing was right. He knew they'd be pleased.

It had been six days since the welcoming feast. Ewald was a man of strategy and deep thinking, and he'd decided that now was the best time to approach the king about wedding with his daughter, Belshamena. Then he'd tell his brothers the rest of the deal written into the treaty.

Ewald brought himself to the door leading to the king's warring chambers. The guard posted outside announced his presence.

"Ah, Prince Ewald, come and join me. I have the feeling you've made your decision." The king waved his hand toward a lounge, indicating that Ewald should take a seat.

Ewald accepted and stretched out his long frame over a cushioned couch. He smiled as the old king relaxed back in a similar way.

"Are all of your daughters available for marriage, Carolus?" Ewald asked in an offhanded manner as he plucked a juicy grape from a bowl on the table in front of him.

"Yes, of course. Every one of my daughters that you saw on the night of the banquet. There must be one that has captured your eye? Perhaps more than one?" The king laughed.

"No, Your Majesty. Just one of your daughters will do for me. And, yes, she has captured my eye, as well as my ear."

"Then tell me, my boy, and I'll have her prepared for the ceremony! You can be wed in three days' time, by our customs – and by your own when you return to your homeland – if you see fit." The king grabbed his goblet of wine and raised it to Ewald.

"The daughter I have chosen is the lovely Belshamena, as I heard you call her." Ewald popped another grape into his mouth.

The king soaked in his words for but a moment before jolting upright, spitting and sputtering the grape wine he'd been sipping.

"Belshamena... No! No... She is not to wed. She is never to wed. Out of the question!" the king roared.

"Your Majesty, you said that every daughter I saw at the banquet was available for marriage, and she was presented to me as the rest were. I believed you a man of your word. You cannot knowingly dangle forbidden fruit in front of me and expect me not to grasp at it. No, good King, if you do not honor my choice, how can I honor the agreements we made in our alliance?"

Ewald delivered his message with a deadly calm, still relaxed against the cushions. He had promised the king aid if ever his kingdom was threatened by enemies. He'd also brought Carolus a hefty bride price – ensuring that the king could not deny this request for his daughter. For _this_ daughter.

"You cannot have Belshamena. You... you do not... _want_ Belshamena," the king spoke weakly, sadness weighing on his words.

"Of course she is whom I want. I choose her – and I get what I want, Carolus – you know me as the man I am today because I let nothing stand in the way of what I want." Ewald had risen from his seat and stood to tower over the king in a threatening way.

The king stared up at Ewald for a long measure of time. Emotions churned in his eyes, intriguing Ewald. There was regret, pain, sadness, and some emotion that Ewald could not name, until, finally, the king's resolve was steeled. His eyes hardened as he sized Ewald up.

"She is the woman you truly desire? Belshamena is the daughter of mine that you choose to marry?" the king calmly asked.

Ewald's tensed body relaxed and he simply answered, "Yes."

"Then we must make a slight change to our agreement. We shan't bother to pen it down. This will be just between you and me. Belshamena is my favorite daughter. She is the favorite because her mother was the only woman I ever loved.

"And our new agreement is this: You will not forsake Belshamena. You will not put her away from you. From this moment on, you will take her as she is, and you will protect her with your life. No harm is to come to her.

"If I find that you have broken this agreement in any way, I will rain down war upon your kingdom so devastating and complete; I will grind your bones into dust beneath my boots. I will wipe your name and your legacy clean off the face of the earth.

"These are _my_ terms if you wish to marry my beloved Belshamena. Do we have an accord?" The king held out his hand to Ewald.

Ewald's eyebrows drew together in confusion, but he readily agreed and took the king's offered hand. He had no problem with these terms. Of course, he'd protect Belshamena – he'd never treat her as anything less than a princess.

"You keep her veiled because she is the most beautiful woman, correct? That is the rumor I have heard."

"Indeed," the king whispered, "the most beautiful woman. But... Ewald, the kind of beauty my daughter possesses, you will never see it with your eyes." The king touched his chest, just above his heart. "Never with your eyes."

**.**

Ewald puzzled over the king's cryptic parting words as he left the warring chambers. Carolus loved his daughter with a fierceness not put on display for the rest of his progeny.

He brooded as he watched his men train, thinking on all the king had made sure he agreed to in the unwritten treaty. Soon, Iyaswic joined him, sitting down next to him, clapping a hard hand on his shoulder.

"What is it that has wrangled you into silence, brother?" Iyaswic asked.

"I am not exactly sure. I've made the deal with the king for his daughter, Belshamena. He's promised death to me and my kingdom if I mistreat or forsake her. This whole deal feels a bit foreboding at the moment."

Iyaswic made a sound of interest. "Have you discovered the mysteries behind the veil, Ewald?"

Frustrated, Ewald stood to his full height and walked away, leaving Iyaswic staring after him with his mouth hanging agape.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

Later that same evening, the king trekked to his daughter's private chambers, high in the east tower of his palace. It was with much trepidation that he prepared himself to relay the news of her impending marriage to the barbarian prince. All of the king's promises to his favorite daughter were about to be rendered void.

This day shouldn't have come for Belshamena. For the whole of her life, Carolus had made sure that no one knew the truth. He'd acted the drunken fool the night of the banquet, and heedlessly put his daughter at risk.

The king found himself to be despicable, at times. His deplorable love of beauty had done nothing but ruin lives. And the loss of so many lives, because of him, only in the name of vanity – which was fleeting and short-lived in this human life – each one was just another black mark against his soul.

He was a horrid man. And now he'd failed the one that he loved so dearly.

Carolus stood deliberating outside her door. It would be difficult to tell her that she would be going away – that she belonged to someone else, now – that he'd failed her as a father. Carolus hung his head, determined not to shed a tear in front of his daughter. He was the King, and making alliances was what he did when he wasn't battling. He was getting to be much too old for war.

And just then, as if the new light of the morning sun had just burst over the horizon in his mind, he saw this opportunity with new eyes. Carolus realized that he would not be around forever. Maybe it was time to make sure Belshamena would be cared for and protected when he was no longer around. He had hope, though it was a drastic hope, that Ewald was the right man for his daughter.

Carolus knocked loudly at the portal of her chambers. It was time to tell her. The prince would be coming in only moments so that they could become acquainted with each other before the ceremony.

Carolus was truly dreading Ewald's reaction when he found out the tragic truth about his daughter, but he would honor his deadly threats should Ewald not come through in this new arrangement.

Carolus heard the bolt turning and smiled – Belshamena was always diligent to keep herself hidden away from the prying eyes of the palace.

She greeted him by taking his hand, since he couldn't see her face. He smiled down on her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Daughter," he said kindly, lovingly, "I have some... surprising news I must tell you. You will have a visitor this evening, and I need to tell you why."

Belshamena nodded and led her father to a sitting area within her chambers.

"What is this news, father, and who will be visiting?" she asked softly.

The king smiled uneasily. "The barbarian Prince Ewald has come to this kingdom seeking alliance... and a wife. The night of the feast, he made his choice. And his choice is... you, dear daughter."

Her sharp intake of breath in the silent room was not lost on Carolus. He knew his shy, private daughter would have much issue with taking a husband, because Carolus had been the one to tell her that she would never be, could never be... enough. He had caused that insecurity in her with his judgmental ideals.

"But, father," she absently touched the bottom edge of her jeweled veil, toying with the shield that kept her safe and hidden. "What about my... he has never seen what I look like. Does he know? He must be... I do not understand. He wishes to take me to wife?" she whispered, her voice trembled on the verge of tears.

"Belshamena, I know I have shocked you. The two of you can discuss that when the time is right. He has agreed to take you as his wife – he will protect you, daughter. I am getting to be an old man; my life will not last forever. Perhaps the time is right that you have a young husband to keep you safe for the remainder of yours.

"I do not wish to say that your life will be without difficulty, but I believe that the two of you could make a good match. Do not fear, beloved. Speak with the prince. You do not have to reveal anything to him this night, if you so wish. I believe that he will be honorable toward you, my dear one, he did choose you, after all."

He watched her in silence for long moments. Her nod of acceptance was hesitant, her small head moving slowly beneath the material that covered her.

"Before I go, Belshamena, I charge you with this task: If he does anything, anything at all, that is disrespectful or harmful to you, if he hurts you in any way – do not hesitate to tell me. Can you do this for me? You must do this for me."

"Yes, father," she murmured, her head still downcast.

"Belshamena," the king took her hand once again, "All my heart is flowing with love for you, dear one. And I pray that the prince will love you even more so than I do." Carolus came to stand above his daughter, and raised her veil away from her face.

Over the years, her deformity had lost some of its angry redness. He looked at her, and caressed both cheeks with the back of his hand before placing a kiss on her smooth forehead. He kissed away the single tear that fell from her large brown eye. He carefully, gently covered her again as a knock sounded on her door.

"Beloved, your future husband awaits." He waited until his beloved daughter returned to the comfort of her floor cushions and saw that she was settled. Ready.

The king marched to the door and swung it open with force. He grabbed the prince's arm in a hard grip, pushing him backward into the hall, and addressed him menacingly. "You will remember our agreement – or you _are_ a _dead_ _man_." The king released Ewald's arm, dropping it like it disgusted him, and stalked away.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

Belshamena had listened carefully to her father's words. She still had her apprehensions. She did not see how this marriage could work, but she was very thankful that she still had her father's protection and consideration.

Belshamena stayed where she was, leaning back against the wall of her sitting room, becoming more fearful by the moment. She heard the king depart, his voice in the hall, and the door finally close. The locking bolt slid home with a loud and ominous clank.

She wished the wall behind her would just swallow her up and let her disappear. She did not think she could do this.

His boots were heavy on the stone floor. The sound echoed around her and her heart started racing to near bursting point.

His mighty shadow darkened the archway leading into her sitting chambers, and Belshamena had a hard time holding back a pitiful whimper.

"Good evening, Princess." The man startled her as he spoke with a deep, resounding voice, which had a foreign inflection that seemed to curve his tongue around the consonants of her language.

Her head whipped to his direction. Seeing his large form in her chambers was unsettling. Men were never allowed to come into her chamber.

She nodded shortly, acknowledging his presence, and trembled before turning her veiled face away from him.

The prince stepped in and dropped to a cushion directly across from her – much too close to her. She had no choice but to look at him now.

He was bigger than she had originally thought. He was positively massive; massive and scary with all his menacing scars.

But then he smiled.

It was a crooked, unsure smile, but it did make him look less… dangerous. There was nothing at all wrong about his smile. Belshamena was momentarily thrown, and forgot her fear.

"I desired to introduce myself to you, this night. Your father and I have spoken formally. He told you why I am here. Did he not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Belshamena nodded, staring unashamedly, because she was still safely hidden behind her protective, concealing veil.

"I am called Ewald. I know you to be Belshamena." Ewald shifted on his seat, moving closer to her. "I hope that you are well, Princess?" he politely inquired. His big body moved awkwardly on the floor cushion.

Belshamena only nodded again, still depending on the wall behind her for support.

Ewald paused and seemed to gather the right words to say to her, he did not appear to be comfortable in this setting, amongst the feminine frills of a princess' chambers. He was dark and hard. He was very much out of place here.

"I would like to know what your thoughts are on this new arrangement. Do you find it agreeable?" he asked.

Belshamena held her tongue as she regarded Ewald for a long moment. Then she spoke, "I... I do not like it," she said softly.

She watched Ewald's brow grow heavy over his eyes. "What is it that you do not like? Is it me that you object to?" he asked in a stilted voice, and maybe, with a small amount of anger. He had clearly not expected her to be averse to this marriage.

Belshamena shook her head slightly and answered him as best she could. "It is not you, Prince Ewald. Do not think that," she told him kindly.

"Will you tell me what displeases you about our union?" Confusion wrinkled his brow, his eyes seemed to glint sharply in the low light of her chambers. He did not like her reticence.

Belshamena sighed and then hedged, "May I first ask a question of you, Prince Ewald?"

"Of course, you may, Princess." He bowed his head, though his biting gaze never wavered from her covered visage.

"Why did you choose me, out of all the beautiful daughters my father had prepared for you in the great hall, all of whom you have seen with your eyes – why did you choose me?"

Ewald raised a large hand to his head and ran his fingers through his colorful hair. She watched his every move and found that she was more at ease with him in her chambers than she ever thought she could be. His presence wasn't as intimidating, anymore.

"There are several reasons that I chose you. I... saw you dance and heard you sing at the banquet. You were... captivating — more so than any of your sisters. The veil you wear also makes you a mystery to me. That, and the mystery of your beauty. Everyone has said you are the most beautiful woman in the kingdom..." Ewald trailed off, smiling bashfully.

"So you chose me because of the rumors of my beauty." Belshamena was getting angry now. All her life, it has been the same – beauty this, and beautiful that. She may as well show Ewald just exactly how _beautiful_ she really was.

Belshamena stood, feeling the slightest bit liberated at having made the decision for what she was about to do.

She swept out of the sitting chamber and stopped at her dressing table. She fumbled with her head-piece, finally ripping it from her head and throwing it carelessly onto the table, scattering little baubles as it landed. The loud clash interrupted the peaceful silence of the room.

The prince must have followed her because he was right behind her when he asked, "Princess Belshamena, what is the matter?"

"Everything," she sniffed. "You may as well see the type of beauty your chosen bride possesses, Prince Ewald, because I am not what you think me to be!" And with that said, she slipped the veil from her head; the glimmering material fluttered gracefully and pooled limply on the stone floor at her feet.

She couldn't bear to look at herself in the reflective surface of the polished steel mirror on her table. Her image being hurled back at her was the last thing she wanted at the moment. But she needed for the prince to see. She was so tired of hiding. Everything was changing. Everything _had_ changed.

The prince shifted his body to her left side. She felt his eyes burn a trail all over that side of her face.

"I cannot lie to you, Prince Ewald – this is me – and the reason I wear a veil. I am sorry that there is nothing more to your mystery." She raised her teary eyes to the reflective mirror with a fleeting glance, and then turned to look full on the face of the prince.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a grim line. Belshamena felt the tears flow freely. It was just as her father had always told her. Others would not be able to accept her deformity, and most certainly not a prince set on acquiring a _beautiful_ bride. The weight of this new found shame pulled her into a despair that she had never experienced before in her young life.

Belshamena held back a sob and hung her head before she turned away from the staring prince. She left him standing by her dressing table and ran to her quiet refuge – her balcony.

She dropped to her knees on a cushion, but could not stop the gut wrenching wail that pushed its way out of her chest.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

Ewald was utterly taken aback by her face – stunned by the flawless, perfect features of the left side.

She was spellbinding.

Then understanding dawned as she finally turned to reveal the other side.

Ewald understood a great many things in that instant.

Why the king made the new, unwritten agreement when he found out Belshamena was the daughter he wanted to take to wife. The reason for the veil. Even the reasons behind the rumors.

The king had been protecting his daughter, and he had never meant for anyone to find out why she wore the veil. He had never planned for this secret to be discovered.

Until Ewald came along, demanding the one daughter out of hundreds who wasn't meant for any man.

Ewald heard her broken cries coming from the balcony. She belonged to him now. Irrevocably — the king saw to that. He needed to make this situation better for her; better for the both of them.

None of this was Belshamena's fault. She'd been caught in the middle, between Ewald and the king. Ewald was angry at himself for making her feel the need to expose secrets to him as she did. He had been a fool; a fool because he made such ridiculous assumptions of the mysterious woman. A fool, because he'd leaped before he'd looked, judged before he knew all the facts.

Her anguished cries tore at Ewald's heart. A heart that now felt warm and pliant, and somehow connected with the princess.

Ewald paused – remembering the king's words. He was as good as her husband in the king's eyes. He would honor their agreement. He did not have it in him to be callous toward a girl who had blemishes somewhat similar to his own. He knew that the scars which marked his own body weren't what defined him, nor did they render him inferior in the eyes of others. If nothing else, they spoke volumes of his character, and sent a clear message that he was a man who did not back down from a fight.

Belshamena, on the other hand, had shielded the world from her deformities, keeping them hidden by elaborate tales and with pretty veils. Her character had never been tested in this capacity.

He walked over to the balcony and winced at the sight of the crumpled, defeated woman on her knees.

Ewald knelt down and clenched his hands at his sides as he decided how he should approach this situation. "Belshamena, sit up and talk with me," he spoke in as kindhearted a manner as he could.

Belshamena hiccuped and sniffled, but managed to contain her tears. Even though she was uncovered and her face was tear-stained, she held her head high.

"I know why you are upset, and must I beg forgiveness. I have been careless. It is not my will that you should be shamed." Ewald moved himself closer so that he was in front of the princess.

"Belshamena," he took her face gently between his large hands and had a good look at her. He even gave her a reassuring smile. "All will be well."

Ewald had not known tenderness since he was a but a babe cradled to his mother's bosom. He had known little feminine goodness in the years since. Sitting before this small woman, he hoped that he could show her some sort of tenderness – show her that she'd not been united with a complete and total brute for the rest of her days. He could scarcely remember how his mother comforted him when he was a babe.

He gently let his thumb caress over the eyebrow of her marred face. The anomalies that he could see with his own eyes were not so bad. Belshamena closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly, but still allowed Ewald's hands to stay in place.

"I am sorry that I... that I am not... a comely bride. Mayhap you should speak with my father about annulling this union and choose someone else for yourself."

"No," Ewald growled, forcing Belshamena to meet his eyes in surprise.

She gaped at him for a few moments before he decided to speak.

"I have already chosen a beautiful bride. She is right here in front of me." Ewald tilted her chin out so he could study her better. Her shining dark hair fell in crinkling, flowing waves, and billowed around her shoulders. He touched her hair, reveling in its cool silkiness. His fingertips trailed over the unmarked side of her face, noting her smooth, high cheekbone, long, fan-like lashes, and the sensuous swell of her rosy lips. She had perfect lips; soft, slightly plump, and made for his kissing.

Then his fingers swept up to the ruined side of her face. "This," he said, shaking his head, "is nothing. I have gotten much worse in battle."

Belshamena let out a shaky laugh and lightly grasped Ewald's thick wrist. Ewald noticed that the touch of her fingers was feather soft, cool, and very pleasant.

"I... I cannot see out of this eye," she whispered shakily. Ewald had deduced as much. The eye had a milky sheen to it. It was a stark difference to the deep brown of the left eye.

"I was favored," Ewald touched the long, jagged scar that sliced up his face and over his own eyelid and eyebrow. "The blade nicked my eye, but not enough to deaden my vision, and it healed well. But that injury wasn't near as bad as others I have taken. Here," Ewald reared back and began relieving himself of his tunic. "I will show you."

Belshamena blushed and dropped her gaze. Without her veil, Ewald could see that she didn't feel comfortable keeping her eyes on him, especially as he disrobed in front of her.

"You may to look at me, Belshamena. We _are_ to be husband and wife. I suspect we shall be a great many things to one other in time. No need to be afraid." Belshamena swallowed thickly and nodded before she looked up again.

Ewald's stout, warrior's body had been hardened by years of practicing the art of swordplay and hand-to-hand combat. Ewald's thick, barbarian hide had been marked and scored by years of putting all that practice into play during war and on the field of battle.

Belshamena's breath caught in her throat as she viewed a few particularly nasty scars that marred his skin. A tentative, trembling hand touched Ewald's muscled stomach with dainty fingers. Ewald's muscles clenched where she touched, tracing a red, blotchy circle – a burn mark from a flaming projectile – which had left a scar nearly the size of his fist.

Her little fingers kept moving around, learning his scars, his body, and he told her the story behind each mark, _if_ he could remember how he got it. There were marks received from arrows and knife or sword blades, fists and booted feet.

At one point, Ewald's shoulder-length hair fell over his collarbones and Belshamena let her hand drift toward it. Just as he had done with her hair, she let it slip through her fingers, and she seemed to enjoy the way a few curls would wrap themselves around, and hold on to her fingertips.

"This may be foolish of me to say, but I do not see your scars when I look at you, Prince Ewald. They are the last thing I notice," Belshamena whispered.

The crooked smile made its way back to Ewald's lips as he asked, "Then what is it that you do notice about me, Princess?"

Belshamena stuttered through an embarrassing blush, "I s-suppose... up-p close, the first thing I notice is your… size. From afar, the m-most distinguishing feature I see is your hair. It is such an interesting shade, most especially in the sunlight."

"Ah. You have seen me from afar, and in the sunlight?" the prince teased with an uplifted brow. He knew that she had watched him and his men in the courtyard. He was gratified to find that she had, indeed, noticed him.

Belshamena smiled and bowed her head away from his teasing eyes.

Ewald lifted her chin and murmured, "Belshamena, I have to be honest and say that I do not notice your scars so much anymore."

The happy smile that lit Belshamena's face even reached her eyes. The clear, brown depths of her left eye seemed to come alive with Ewald's words.

Then a slight frown worried over her brow. "My father, he always said that no one would understand... that no one would accept this." Belshamena's own hand touched the drooping eyelid, the mottled skin of her right cheek. "I would not hold it against you, Prince Ewald, if this is... my face and scars... were revolting to you. Father said..."

"Princess, I do not care about what your father has told you in the past. Now, tell me this, are you going to hold my scars against me? Because I have a lot of them, and they would fill a whole sea full of grudges. What say you?"

"No, Prince Ewald, I couldn't hold them against you. That would be unfair." Belshamena shook her head a little, letting a finger touch a thick scar over his muscled chest.

"Then heed your own words, Princess. It would be unfair that I should hold a thing such as this," he caressed her face, "against such a good woman. I would not be a good man for you if I were to let you go on believing that you weren't whole because of them. Those scars do not make you into who you are.

"I want us to have a good life together. So we will not dwell on such things. Does that not sound agreeable, Princess Belshamena?"

Happiness lit her face before she frowned once more. "Yes, I am agreeable to that. I... I shall do my best and be a good wife for you, Prince Ewald. Though, I never expected to be married to anyone. The only things I really know how to do are to sing and make music. I'm sorry that I do not know more." Belshamena shrugged and continued to frown.

"Do not worry about such things. Your duties in my homeland shall be different from your duties here. You will be a fine wife. And I will be a fine husband. I vow it to you." Ewald paused and was thoughtful for a few moments.

"Princess, may I give you something?" he asked quietly, even though his voice rumbled deeply.

Belshamena blinked a few times in surprise and told him, "If you wish."

Ewald continued to look upon her, committing her features to memory. It would be several days until the ceremony, before Ewald would get to see her again, and at that time, she would most likely be hidden behind her veil.

He was certain that this woman would grow to be precious to him. He was delighted to discover that they were, in fact, well matched and even in temper. He'd taken some time to muse over these thoughts when her lovely voice distracted him.

"Prince Ewald, what is it that you wanted to give me?" She had been uncomfortable at his open, unashamed perusal.

"Yes," he murmured, reaching out to caress her cheek and then wind his fingers into her soft hair. "I wanted to give you… a kiss."

Belshamena's eyes widened as Ewald closed in on the space between them. Her breath was like mint as it tickled his face, as sweet smelling as the flowers growing and blooming along her balcony. Ewald licked his lips and slowly plied them to Belshamena's moist mouth.

He felt her little hands come to rest on his exposed upper chest, steadying herself as his lips began to whisper over her supple flesh.

It was a kiss, but it was more than just a kiss. It was a promise of warmth and truth and welcome. Ewald wanted to put Belshamena at ease and encourage her to be comfortable in his company. He didn't want her to be afraid of his affections. So he kept his attentions simple and pulled away after only half a minute into the kiss. He was surprised by the necessary willpower it took for him to remove his lips from hers.

Ewald backed away slightly and grinned at the pucker that Belshamena's lips were still poised in. He couldn't help but bring his hand to her face once more, just to study its softness. Belshamena's eyes fluttered and finally opened.

Ewald was pleased by their exchange. He couldn't wait to do it again, but he knew their time together this evening had come to an end.

"Princess Belshamena, even though I have already spoken with your father, and the deal has been struck, I feel that I need to ask you, now.

"Will you be my bride?"

A little smile curled her lips and she nodded, saying "Yes, Prince Ewald, I will be your bride."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

The following evening, another feast was held for the barbarian warriors. News that the prince's brothers were to take wives as well threw the palace around Belshamena into frenzy. She could hear the excited voices of her half-sisters and the wives outside her chambers – whispering and giggling, happy to have another chance at securing a husband; two chances, in fact.

She'd been informed early in the evening that she would not be attending the banquet, since she had already been chosen to be Prince Ewald's bride. She was no longer on the market for a husband – though she knew she was never supposed to be on the market in the first place.

Belshamena sat back and pondered on her previous evening. The turn her life had taken in just a few hours had her reeling in a blustery storm of nervous anticipation.

Prince Ewald knew what she looked like underneath her veil. He didn't mind that she wasn't beautiful like her sisters. He thought she was beautiful in spite of her scars. Just like she thought he was handsome in spite of his.

Belshamena giggled to herself, the high spirits around her were contagious. How had this happened? She never dreamed that she may one day find happiness with a mate. Now, she was starting to believe that it could happen for her. She never knew she would want this for her life. Almost as a dream that had been non-existent. Until last night.

Ewald was unexpected. His true nature was hidden behind his sheer size and force and his fierce scars. The barbarian that everyone saw on the outside, the personage that had his enemies trembling in fear on the battlefield, was not how Belshamena perceived him in her presence.

He was a lamb, tender and sweet and affectionate. Though, Belshamena knew he would never appreciate being thought of or described as a lamb. She would never seek to offend him with such a weak description of his character.

Then there was the gift of his kiss.

When his lips had touched with hers… She sighed, still feeling that tingling caress dwelling upon her mouth. Oh! Were all kisses so magical? She did not know – it had been her very first kiss.

It was times like these that Belshamena wished she had someone she could talk with and confide in, someone to divulge her secrets to, someone to get good advice from. In a time like this, she wished she had a mother to learn from, _her_ own mother.

Sometimes she hated her mother, the king's favorite wife, Rianna. She hated her for dying, for leaving her alone, scarred and blemished, in a palace full of only beautiful people. And when her father would speak of how beautiful and wonderful Rianna was in her lifetime, Belshamena just despised her all the more.

She knew her feelings were unfounded and unfair to the woman who had brought her life. She probably would have been a wonderful mother, had she lived.

Belshamena wondered if Ewald still had a living mother, who may be as accepting as Ewald had been of her. She recalled hearing Ewald and his brother talk about their mother. It would be nice to gain a friend in her new life with her new husband; to gain someone who could be like the mother she never had.

In three days' time, Belshamena and Ewald would be wed in a ceremony traditional to her people. A thrill wound its way down her spine. In three days, she would have a barbarian husband, protector, and – Belshamena swallowed thickly – a barbarian lover.

And that was another great mystery that Belshamena knew very little about.

**.**

Ewald watched in amusement as his brothers, Iyaswic and Emmelric, perused the same daughters that had been paraded in front of him nearly a se'nnight ago. They had both been surprised that they would get to go home with a bride as well. They sat and gawked at the visual delights before them, the both of them wide-eyed and looking the slightest bit overwhelmed.

This game differed greatly from the war games his brothers were accustomed to playing.

Now it was their turn to sift through the she-swans. And a daunting task it was – for any man.

What a relief for him! Ewald couldn't help but think he had picked the best of the whole lot. Belshamena seemed, for the short time he had spend with her her, like a real treasure. He was looking forward to beginning their union.

He thought on her as he sat through the rest of the feast. He was disappointed that he had not been allowed to sup with her beside him on this night.

The king had deftly avoided any confrontation with Ewald since he'd met with the princess the previous night. Ewald had his suspicions as to why the king had nothing to say to him. Carolus was likely expecting Ewald's wrath about the irreversible betrothal to the imperfect Belshamena.

A lesser man would have felt the sting of perfidy at the deception.

But Ewald did not. He had deceived himself with the tales that surrounded the mystery of the woman, the favored daughter of the king. But still, he had chosen Belshamena, sight unseen, and demanded her hand direct from the king. Even though she was not as he thought she would be, he would not forsake her because of her imperfect face.

He could not replace her now, even if he had to. He did not want to be rid of her. He had discovered that Belshamena was a like a balm to his weary, war-hardened soul. It was a delight to be in her presence, and Ewald would cherish that for the rest of his life. Just as he would cherish her.

Ewald caught the king stealing cursory glances in his direction. Carolus appeared to be the slightest bit nervous. Ewald chuckled to himself, but raised his goblet in the king's direction, giving him a nod in salute.

The king relaxed infinitesimally, but a puzzled frown crept onto his face. Ewald laughed silently again at the king's discomfort. He couldn't help laughing. Ewald found that he was… _happy_.

He was happy because of Belshamena, and her easy manner and her quiet soul.

Ewald scooped up his goblet and slowly walked to the king's side. There were several wives draped about his shoulders, feeding him and keeping him entertained.

"I thought I might go and visit with my betrothed. I did not like that she could not be by my side this eve." Ewald boldly voiced his displeasure to the king's face.

Ewald didn't ask the king's permission if he could go and see Belshamena. The king looked him over with narrowed eyes. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, only to close it, but he finally grumbled, "You are not to consummate the union until _after_ the ceremony."

Ewald's lip curled in a mocking smile, further throwing the king off balance. He bowed to the king. "Perfectly understood, Your Majesty."

And then Ewald was moving swiftly through the palace and to his betrothed's door.

He knocked firmly, feeling his heart beat harder and faster in his chest.

He heard the lock slide away and her door cracked open slowly. Her veiled figure came into view. His hands tingled, ready to rip away the cloth that kept her hidden from his eyes.

"Prince Ewald! What are you doing here? Why are you not at the banquet with your brothers?" She sounded pleased and puzzled as she allowed him entrance, locking her door behind him.

"I am here because you are here," he answered simply.

"Oh," she breathed in surprise and then lowered her head.

"Princess," Ewald took hold of the silk-like fabric covering her face, "you do not have to wear this for me. In fact, I would rather you did not."

"Oh, o-of course." Belshamena turned for her dressing table and Ewald followed behind her. As she reached for the head-piece, Ewald interrupted her movements.

"May I?" he asked her.

Belshamena hesitated, but finally nodded.

Ewald set his goblet on her table and then stood directly at Belshamena's back. He took hold of the head-piece, and almost pulled it sharply away. Belshamena stopped him with her tiny hand on his wrist before he could remove it.

"There are pins that hold it in place. Please do not pull, yet," she pleaded softly.

Ewald cringed at having nearly scalped her. "My apologies, Princess."

She showed him where the small pins were located and he finally lifted the piece from atop her head.

And then, with Ewald standing very close behind Belshamena, he slowly brought the veil away from her face, pulling it backward over her head. Belshamena shyly smiled at Ewald's reflection, and he stared back with a certain gleaming light sparkling in his eyes.

"Good evening to you, Princess," he finally said, deep voice rumbling.

She looked down, averting her gaze and her own giddy smile.

Ewald couldn't stop himself from touching her. He was already standing so closely that he could feel her warmth burning through to his chest and belly. That heat made his body quiver with a new and ardent passion – for her. He let his fingers sift through her wavy hair. He gathered it to one side and then bent to place a kiss on her elegantly sloped neck. Her skin was so smooth – it was a softness that he was quickly becoming enamored of.

He heard her sharp intake of breath as his heated mouth made contact on her sensitive flesh. Ewald glanced at her reflection and saw that her eyes were closed now, and her lips were parted in pleasure. He enjoyed laving this kind of attention on her. Belshamena's reactions to everything he did made him want to touch her more.

Ewald could smell the wonderful fragrance of her hair as he skimmed his nose upward along her neck, tantalizing his senses – breathing her in, absorbing her into himself.

With a last kiss on top of her head, he pulled her in to the circle of his arms, holding her from behind, cuddling her small frame into he curve of his body.

"The foremost thought in my mind, all day long, was you, Princess."

She giggled; a carefree and joyful sound. "Did you think of me?" he asked her, teasing her.

Belshamena's smile was radiant. "Yes, Prince Ewald, you were on my mind a good portion of the day," she admitted bashfully.

Ewald hummed, contented, as he hugged her and finally, reluctantly, let her go. "What were you doing before I got here, Princess?"

"I was just… playing on my harp," she told him quietly.

"Would you mind if I sat and listened to you play for a while?" Ewald inquired.

"Very well," she smiled. Belshamena took Ewald's large, tough hand and led him to her balcony. She made him sit and encouraged him to get comfortable on all the cushions she had piled up.

It was darker out on the balcony, and Ewald could see that she did not feel as shy in the low light. She picked up her harp and twirled around gracefully on her feet, bringing herself back to Ewald. She sat, propping the instrument on an upraised knee and used both hands to craft a lazy, silvery melody.

Ewald, watched and listened, transfixed by this tiny woman who was to be his wife. As her music wove a peaceful calm around him, he stretched and relaxed back against the makeshift pallet Belshamena had put together on her balcony. He was glad he'd traded his leather armor and breastplate for a soft tunic on this night.

Eventually, Belshamena's music took him away, sending him through a dream-like world of vivid color and pleasant sound.

Ewald fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

Belshamena looked upon the sleeping prince as the moonlight shone down through the white jasmine blooms. All the tensions and cares of the world left him just as his eyes had drifted closed. He looked like such a young man in his sleep.

She continued to play her harp for a little while longer, until her fingertips started protesting against the strings.

She sat the harp away from her and contented herself with admiring him. Her heart had been all aflutter at having this intimate time with her betrothed. He was a mighty strong and handsome man, this barbarian. Belshamena was proud to call him her husband.

Would he be proud to call her his wife?

She hoped so. She thoroughly enjoyed his attentions and affections, and that was one of the things she was most looking forward to in their relationship. She was looking forward to having someone to hug and hold and kiss her. She was so starved for human interaction. It was a joy that she knew so very little of, until Ewald had touched her.

She thought of the way Ewald had kissed her the night before. Would he be offended if she tried to steal a kiss while he slept?

Belshamena wanted to try. She wanted to feel his lips upon hers again – just to see if there was really magic in his kiss, or if it had been her imagination deceiving her.

She knelt down at Ewald's side and pushed a colorful lock of his hair away from his forehead. Her fingers softly traced the scar that scored his jaw and cheek. She liked this part of him, the imperfect parts, just as much as the rest of him.

Then she let her thumb caress his full bottom lip. A deep rumbling sigh let loose from within his chest, and his lips parted as she reached the corner of his mouth.

Belshamena situated herself until her face was hovering just above the prince's. She tilted her head this way and that, trying to figure out the best way to get her kiss.

"What are you waiting for, Princess?"

Belshamena yelped and sat back. She had thought he was asleep, but now she could see that he was smirking devilishly at her. His eyes were still closed.

"How did you know what I was doing?" she asked, miffed that she'd been discovered in the midst of her little plan.

"I could smell you above me. I am a warrior; I do not let my guard down often. My instincts start to kick in when my senses pick up on the subtle differences around me. So when a beautiful woman leans over me, in all her sweet-smelling glory, I tend to pick up on something like that rather quickly." He smiled up at Belshamena, no shame at all on his face.

"But I shall close my eyes and let you try again, if it please you, Princess."

And then he lay back and closed his eyes, pretending he was sleeping again. Belshamena huffed and acted like she wasn't going to do it, but then she draped herself across his chest and firmly pressed her lips to his.

When he brought his large arms around her, holding her down, pressing her into his body, it felt so wonderful. Belshamena seemed like a child compared to his size, but she reveled in the comfort the safe haven his embrace brought to her. He was warm and she became whole within the embrace of his arms.

The short beard growth on his face tickled slightly against her cheeks and nose, but she did not mind its roughness. His lips were just as sensational as she remembered them; soft and giving and, oh, so marvelous.

The beat of her heart and the pounding of the blood in her ears was starting to grow louder and louder. Maybe the pounding of the barbarian's heart lent to the noise. But Ewald tensed beneath her, growing very still in the heat of their passionate embrace.

He took his lips away from hers, much to her dismay, and much too soon. She noted his heavy eyelids and the turbulent swirl of color beneath his lashes – she just now observed that his eyes were tinged green. She liked how his lips had parted and were glistening with the evidence of her own kisses upon them.

After a few deep breaths, the pounding still had not let up.

"Princess, there is someone at your door," the prince murmured in a rough whisper.

Belshamena tilted her head to the opening at her balcony, listening for the sound. Sure enough, someone was knocking; loudly and with not a bit of patience.

Belshamena pushed herself off Ewald's chest, reluctant to leave him, and got to her feet.

She made sure to lay the veil in place over her head before she unlocked her door.

Her father's face greeted her on the other side. He looked mightily displeased.

**.**

"Is he still here?" the king asked angrily.

"The Prince? Yes, father…" Belshamena had to quickly get out of the way of the door as Carolus burst through, whipping his head about.

Ewald was casually propped and leaning against the archway which led to Belshamena's balcony.

"Your Majesty, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this fine night?" Ewald asked of the king.

"You!" the king growled and pointed at the prince. "Get out!"

"Father?" Belshamena interrupted. "What is the meaning of this?" she questioned, unsettled that he was raising his voice.

"He is not to see you again until the day of the ceremony," he grouched as he turned back to Belshamena. Then he stumbled as he noticed she was without her veil. She had removed it after closing the door.

The king's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up high on his forehead.

"Belshamena…" he strangled out in a whisper. He approached her with his hands held out. She came to him willingly and gave him a hug.

"You have shown him… so he knows. Has he… Was he angry?" the king asked, keeping his voice at a low volume, so the prince would not overhear.

Belshamena pulled back to look the king in the eye. "No, father, he has been very receptive and very kind. I do not think you could have found a better man for me. Thank you, father," she whispered, truly grateful for the gift she'd been given.

The king's eyes were watery as he smiled down at Belshamena. Indeed, Carolus had never seen his little girl shine with such contented happiness. He felt a pang of remorse that he'd never seen that light in her ever before. It was affirmed in his mind that this was the correct course of action. And his daughter would likely be much better off away from here; away from her gilded cage.

The king nodded and kissed her forehead.

"I am happy for you, beloved," the king told her before he turned back to Ewald.

The king looked long and hard at the man who had wrought these simple changes in Belshamena. Ewald was a better man than he. Ewald had accepted his daughter, when in truth, Carolus had not, and had remained content to keep her hidden away behind an arsenal of sparkling fabrics and jewels.

"Come, Prince Ewald, your brothers have made their decisions. There are a few details that we need to see to." The king swept back to the door and waited for Ewald to follow.

"Good night, dear Belshamena. This will be the last time you see the Prince before the ceremony, so say your goodbyes, if you must. Quickly."

And then the king left them alone.

**.**

Ewald pushed himself from the archway and took Belshamena into his arms. He gave her a little smile, and then he kissed her. Belshamena felt the impact of this kiss all the way to her toes, which had started levitating off the floor.

Ewald had lifted her up, gathering her closer to himself. And then he spun them around; her feet did fly out from under her then! Belshamena pulled away from Ewald with a joyous laugh.

His spinning finally slowed, and he brought her back to her feet. He still held tight to her waist.

"Two days, Princess Belshamena. I will find no joy in those two days. I swear it."

Delighted at his talk, albeit, his dramatic talk, Belshamena smiled and shook her head. "Two days is not very long at all."

"At the moment it feels like a very long time," he grumped.

"I am sure there will be much to keep us occupied. Go, now, before my father comes looking for you again. The next time you see me, I'll be wearing a red veil."

"Then I will not be happy again until I see a red veil." He kissed her chastely, one last time, and then closed the door with a soft click.

Just two more days, and then she would be Ewald's wife.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward _

* * *

There was another who wanted the barbarian prince for her own. She had admired and lusted after his fine warrior's physique. She was ready to be a queen. _His_ queen.

But the prince Ewald did not choose her.

_He did not choose her. _She could not fathom this slight.

She did not like being overlooked. Her beauty out-shined that of her sisters', of this she was certain. Her flame of lustrous hair rivaled the burning glare of the sun. She'd inherited her refined beauty from her mother, who was of a rare, fairer race from the north. Her mother had given her a name that meant 'goddess of war' in the language of her people.

She would make a far better match for the barbarian than the king's precious favored. His constant favoritism shown toward Belshamena grated on her, and her jealousy of Belshamena was complete.

It would be simple to deceive the prince. No one had ever been allowed to look upon Belshamena's face, the king had always been most adamant in this. The prince most likely had yet to see her unveiled – no doubt that was a stipulation on the alliance. It would be easy, so easy, to trick the prince. She could pass herself off as Belshamena. She would just keep hidden from everyone until it was time to leave with the prince.

She went about her business and her tireless planning, sabotage written upon her heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

_Iyaswic - (Yaz-vik) Jasper_

_Emmelric - Emmett_

* * *

"A nymph! An ebony-haired nymph!" Iyaswic, the second son exclaimed, laughing, as he flung himself back against a pillowed floor lounge.

"Just exactly as if she had sprung from one of the stories our mother would tell us at bedtime. Do you not remember? She would tell us about the forest dwelling fey that fly and renew the trees and the flowers in the springtime. It is like the story come to life. That is why I chose her. She is the woman from mother's tales."

Iyaswic was well-pleased and enthusiastic with his choice of the king's daughters. He was the fanciful sort, content in his joviality. The name of the daughter he had chosen was Avila.

Emmelric was quiet, as was per usual for him, but every few minutes, Ewald would spy a tiny, winsome smile cracking his stony face. The beauty Emmelric had chosen was a statuesque goddess; flaxen-haired and seemingly as cold as the marble sculptures lining Carolus' immaculate halls. Emmelric was the brooding type, the youngest of the brothers, darker and larger, and more like Ewald than the sunny Iyaswic. His bride-to-be was called Roshanak.

Ewald had only glimpsed the selected daughters briefly, but he could see that his brothers were happy with their choices. His brothers were to wed a week following Ewald's and Belshamena's ceremony.

Emmelric was a skilled fighter, an ever watchful scout, and well-practiced all manner of blacksmithing arts, which he worked at with due diligence. Ewald had a special task for him.

"Do not think that I didn't catch that smile, little brother," Ewald goaded as he sat next to Emmelric.

Emmelric just snorted and went back to carving on a fragrant cut of cedar wood. He was always working with his hands, and making lovely little trinkets. Their mother had shelves in her chamber devoted to Emmelric's crafts. Ewald could make out the petals of a flower taking shape in the small chunk of wood, opening up in bloom.

"Is that a gift for your betrothed?" Ewald nodded to the piece in Emmelric's hand.

"Aye," he spoke softly, "I aim to chip away at her heart, one piece at a time." For as lumbering and fearsome as Emmelric appeared to be, he was a man in which his emotions ran deep. In just a short meeting with his betrothed, he had already discerned her nature and had a plan to win over her jaded heart.

"You never cease to surprise me with your talents, little brother. I wonder if you might be able to craft something for me?" Ewald produced a leather draw-string pouch filled with clumps of shining metals and crudely polished gemstones, which he poured out onto his hand.

"Think you that a pretty ring or wrist bauble could be made from these for my betrothed?" Ewald asked of his youngest brother.

"Aye, you have enough to make several things for your lady. What do you think she would like?" Emmelric had picked up a few pieces and was studying them by holding them up to the light and close to his eye.

"Well, uh, she is… a gentle and quiet spirit, sweet-natured, unassuming. She loves music, and can play a lyre with a skilled hand and ear. She sings… She is… unique in her beauty. It is hard to say what she may like; I do not think she is expecting a gift from me. Belshamena is modest. I do not think she would like gaudy jewelry." Ewald frowned as he finished, quite unsure how to proceed with this description of his bride-to-be.

"And she is shrouded in secrets…" Emmelric mumbled. Ewald half-smiled to himself, and nodded to his brother.

"That she is, brother. But I would gladly seal my lips for all time to be _her_ secret keeper."

**.**

Her silken ceremonial dress had been completed with gold embroidery and sculpted to fit each precise curve of her body. Her veil had been sewn and weighted down with rubies and garnets.

She even helped put the finishing touches on her betrothed's wedding tunic. She took great care with each stitch she made. Her heart swelled with pride when she saw it finished. She felt better about his tunic than she did about her own dress, truth be told.

Belshamena was a girl on the verge. "The precipice of womanhood," the seamstress had blathered on and on as she had whipped stitches here and gathered fabric there. Belshamena would much prefer to be tortured with a carelessly placed sewing needle than to have to listen to the woman relay her rather sordid thoughts on the sacred vows of marriage.

Belshamena would quite like to form her own opinions on the matter of matrimony. She was happy to see the couturier go.

And then she was left to an evening all by herself. A typical lonely night.

_Only one more day until the ceremony_. Then she wouldn't have to be so alone anymore.

Her evening meal was brought to her, and she ate in peaceful silence. She couldn't help but hope the rest of the meals in her new life wouldn't be so solitary. Perhaps her husband would find joy in supping together… Breaking their fast together… Taking midday meals together…

Kissing together…

She perched herself on her hidden balcony just as the sun was setting. The heat of the day gave way to the cool of the night and Belshamena began to play. She played songs that exemplified the fullness inside her heart. Carefree tunes that inspired dancing and singing. She heard others gathering below her in the courtyard.

There were many people out on their balconies that evening. They applauded Belshamena's music whenever she finished a song. And loud, foreign voices from across the way cheered her name with exotic endearments; Ewald's voice being the loudest amongst the barbarians.

She smiled and then played a song that accompanied the pounding rhythm of her heart.

* * *

**A/N: Two little chapters this time 'round. Thanks for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Carolus – Charlie_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

The next morning, Belshamena had a trusted servant deliver Ewald's wedding tunic to him in his chambers. It would not be long now. Belshamena jittered about her chambers, brushing her hair and winding it into coils, only to release them and decide on a different style for her hair.

At noon, a gift from her bridegroom was delivered to her. It was a beautifully crafted gold bracelet for her wrist. There was a sizeable blue gemstone worked into the gold, as well as a few clear sparkling ones. It reminded Belshamena of the night sky filled with stars. She clasped it about her arm and admired it for hours.

There was a knock at her chamber door an hour before the ceremony was to start, just as she was about to dress. It was a sister that she did not expect for a visit.

"Good evening, Vígdís. Why are you here?" Belshamena asked her fiery-headed sister. She had memorized her sisters' names and faces when she saw them in her father's banquet hall. Though she'd never been allowed to speak with them. And none of them had ever come to her rooms before.

"Oh, do not be so rude, Belshamena. Father sent me to help you ready yourself. He also sent this wine for you to drink. A gift for you. Let me see your dress, Belshamena." Vígdís spoke sweetly, already sweeping inside the chamber and looking about.

Belshamena showed her the creation she was to wear for the ceremony and the decorated veil that would go with it.

"It is lovely. You must be so pleased to be the bride of such a handsome prince." Vígdís looked over the garments with an expression of longing on her face.

"Yes, well…" Belshamena was interrupted.

"Come! Let us drink to your union! This is a fine day, sister." Vígdís poured a goblet of wine for Belshamena to drink. "Father sent but one goblet, so it must be meant only for you to drink. I'll have water. There will be plenty of wine at the celebration after the ceremony." Vígdís poured a plain cup of water for herself from the pitcher in Belshamena's sitting chambers.

The wine tasted a little off. Perhaps it was a bouquet she was unfamiliar with. Sometimes the king would get in shipments of exotic wine from different parts of the continent. Belshamena drank anyway, unwilling to waste her father's special gift to her. But only a few sips of the wine, and she began to feel ill. The goblet fell from her hand and clattered on the stone floor as she swayed and grabbed at her head to steady it. A wave of dizziness overtook her and impaired her already limited sight. Her veil seemed to be smothering her.

"Vígdís… something is wrong… I feel so s-sick…" Belshamena stumbled and fell… and knew no more.

**.**

That red veil finally flitted into his vision at the entrance of the king's large atrium. Massive columns lined the aisle as she walked to him. Onlookers and guests were congregated off to the sides. Ewald stood on a platform in front of a trickling fountain.

_A man about to take a wife_.

She was completely covered; the red veil even concealed her hair. Buds of excitement blossomed in Ewald's heart as he watched his betrothed approach.

Ewald took great pleasure in wrenching her out of her brother's arms, and forcibly taking her to his side, as was tradition when taking a bride. In the end, at the sealing of the ceremony, he kissed her lips while the veil remained in place.

But Ewald pulled back in confusion. Shouts of congratulatory praise rang up from the spectators around him. Something was wrong. Ewald could feel it. And Belshamena… she was… she did not smell right.

She did not smell sweet like she normally did. There was no trace of the familiar jasmine floating on the air around her.

Belshamena took his hand then. She tried to pull him back down the aisle and into the palace. He glanced at her wrist, and then he pulled her other hand from beneath her veil.

"Why did you not wear the jeweled cuff I had made for you?"

He could only see the slight indifferent rise of one shoulder – there was no vocal response from her.

The cheering crowd pushed them through the festive corridors to the banquet hall where entertainment and a feast awaited.

Ewald was uneasy as he stared at the covered profile of his new wife. She was not… herself. She moved about awkwardly, spilling wine and bits of food on her fine veil. His senses told him that something was dreadfully wrong.

He dared not touch his goblet of wine. He feared that he needed all his wits about him.

As he continued to stare, he could have sworn he saw a lock of fiery red hair peek out from the bottom of the red veil covering his bride's head.

Ewald jumped to his feet, shaken, as if a snake had slithered across his foot, and immediately sought out the king.

"Your Majesty, I've a need to speak with you in private," Ewald eyed his wife from a new angle. The hair on the back of his neck rose in alarm.

"Anxious to get to the bed chamber, my boy?" the king laughed heartily at his joke, already half drunk on wine from the feast.

"King Carolus, there is a matter we need to deal with. Now." Ewald's tone was deep and stern. He _would_ be taken seriously.

The king sighed heavily and wobbled to a standing position. His grip on his wine goblet, however, was firm and steady.

Ewald pulled the king into the shelter of an archway, off to the side of all the merriment; away from prying ears and away from his phony bride.

"King Carolus, I have reason to believe that the woman under that veil is an imposter. I do not think that she is Belshamena."

The king's brow furrowed. "What gives you that idea?" he slurred.

"It is a feeling in my gut, Your Majesty. I know my betrothed. That," he pointed to the woman with a rigid hand, "is _not_ my betrothed."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	13. Chapter 13

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Carolus – Charlie_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

_Emmelric - Emmett_

* * *

The king grew alert and began watching Ewald's veiled bride from the cover of the archway. He was certain he would know his beloved Belshamena by her mannerisms alone. In that same moment, the veiled woman raised her hand and scratched at her head, nearly knocking the veil askew.

Belshamena would never raise her hands to her veil in the presence of others – he'd taught her from a young age to never fidget with her veil, drilled her to be vigilant with her covering at all times.

The old king sobered immediately and marched to the imposter bride. He sat his goblet on the table before her and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Daughter, come with me."

The woman meekly complied and went with the king. The prince stalked behind them, eyeing the back of the imposter's head with an angry frown. A worrying feeling sprouted in his heart.

**.**

Her plan should have been fail safe.

But something was wrong.

The prince was suspicious of her. She could tell because he kept staring at her curiously all through the feast. There was no way he could know who the real Belshamena was – he had surely not been allowed to view her without her being covered.

As she was being led away from the banquet hall, she was not so sure.

**.**

The king turned as the three of them entered his private meeting chambers. As soon as Ewald took post by the door, Carolus addressed to the red-veiled bride.

"Now, tell me, which of my daughters has chosen to impersonate the Prince Ewald's true bride on this day?"

The woman remained stone still and silent.

"Take off the veil. We know you are not Belshamena," the king told her. The fearsome dread grew larger inside Ewald's chest.

The woman huffed and even stomped her foot before she started pulling away at the red material.

A burning hot anger consumed Ewald as he saw flaming red locks, curled around a pale face, come into view. It was a flawless face. And though she was a beautiful woman – her beauty was treacherous. Her eyes were not kind.

"Vígdís! What have you done?" the king roared at the deceitful woman, this fraudulent daughter.

"What is the meaning of this? Where is Belshamena?" the prince boomed. Ewald had no patience for this game. He was afraid of what she had done in order to take Belshamena's place. Where was his betrothed?

"Why would you want that ugly, cripple-faced hag when you could have me?" she asked with conceit. "I had no idea she was hiding such an awful face under that veil all these years." Her laugh was ugly as she gazed up at the prince. "We are already married, you know." She was smug about it. Smug, because she decided she had won.

"A mistake that will soon be remedied," the prince shouted down at her.

"You have looked upon Belshamena's face?" the king asked in a strained voice. "Vígdís, no one is to look upon her. You have disobeyed me. What is it I have always promised those who disobey me in this matter?" the king asked of his daughter.

Vígdís paled – her eyes grew large. She knew the king to be serious in his threats. Vígdís saw that her plan had failed her – she would see her death at dawn.

Carolus had his guard apprehend his vicious daughter. "Now, tell me where Belshamena is," the king commanded.

"I left her in her chambers, you will find her there," the girl with the flaming hair sneered, "I poisoned her." There was a twisted look of proud accomplishment resting on her condemned countenance.

Prince Ewald's rage spilled over and he lunged at the woman, just as his vision turned to a murderous black.

**.**

It was a pretty thing to his eye – the little cedar rose that he'd carved for his betrothed. Emmelric paused, gripping the gift in his hand as he looked at his chosen bride-to-be from across the banquet table. She was more than lovely.

He wanted to win her heart.

He chose Roshanak because there was a strength that he could see in her that was absent in King Carolus' other daughters. There was a glint in her eye, sharp as a sword's edge that flashed when she'd first looked at him. It was that flash that had him. He wanted a strong woman for a wife.

Her eyes were loaded with such disdain as she stared at him from the other side of the table. Emmelric kept his gaze level, emotionless.

He knew he had his work cut out for him.

Emmelric kept track of her, watched her as she got up to leave the hall. He followed her into the atrium. She was so exquisite among the flowers and green plants. Her delicate fingers trailed over the marble columns as she walked further in at a leisurely pace. Emmelric admired the way her wrapped dress showed her long slim arms and the naked curve of her back. Her hair, golden and pale, was coiled around her head in a simple knot, held tightly with a decorative comb.

He wanted to touch her neck, but he knew his advances would not be welcomed.

Emmelric circled around a column and positioned himself in front of her. He stepped out to reveal himself, stopping her in her path and possibly throwing her off guard.

Her large, kohl lined eyes regarded him with a hint of surprise, before she shut all emotion out.

"Princess Roshanak," Emmelric rumbled deeply in greeting. He gave her a simple bow.

The princess raised a finely groomed eyebrow, keeping silent.

Emmelric pulled the cedar flower from behind his back and presented it to her.

Roshanak curled her lip as she took it into her hand and looked at it. She tossed it aside and kept walking. Her steps slowed when she heard it crash against the floor and Emmelric saw her turn her head. There was only the slightest hint of remorse in that backward glance.

The little cedar flower slammed into a column, fell to the stone floor and broke in twain. When she was gone, Emmelric bent and picked up the pieces. The flower had split perfectly down the middle. Two pieces of art, now.

Roshanak would weaken her resolve, he was certain. He knew she would crack, just as the little wooden rose had. Emmelric only needed to apply a bit more force.

He knew exactly what to do with the two pieces.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Carolus – Charlie_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

There was a loud, abrupt snap. The rending of bone and sinew. The breaking of life from body.

A fearsome barbarian warrior bared his teeth at the enemy with a chilling, roaring war-cry which thundered from deep within his chest. A beast unleashed.

The guard pried Ewald away from Vígdís. But the guard was much too late, and Ewald's reflexes were quick.

Vígdís lay limp, lifeless, on the floor of the king's chambers, her neck bent at a sickeningly unnatural angle. The beast howled with satisfaction. His enemy had been decimated.

Eyes nearly black with rage met those belonging to Carolus. A challenge, daring him to condemn him for what he had done. Ewald knew his actions were justified.

And then he was running – away from battle; running to his betrothed – to his true bride – to his love.

Belshamena... how he loved her! How he needed her!

He slammed his way into her chambers and frantically searched the rooms for her. There was an odd, putrid smell coming from the bed chamber. Ewald stepped through the archway into the darkened room and nearly crumpled to the floor in defeat.

Belshamena lie unconscious in a pool of bloody vomit. Ewald hoped he wasn't too late.

_Please be alive. You have to live!_

He pulled her unresponsive body into his arms and felt for any signs of life – a whisper of breath, a flutter of heartbeat.

There was nothing. No movement. No breath. Ewald's huge hands fumbled around to feel anything.

_Anything_.

He felt helpless. Lost – a sensation he had never felt before.

The mighty warrior brought to his knees.

"Belshamena... _Belshamena_..." he chanted over and over in a thick, bleak voice.

**.**

The king summoned the physician who had tended Belshamena since her birth and told the messenger to make haste.

His daughter's life was at stake.

He stared into the lifeless eyes of Vígdís.

Dull and unseeing, they returned his gaze as her remains lay upon his floor. He felt little remorse at the moment. Vígdís had harmed Rianna's flesh and blood. He would not feel remorse.

Carolus dreaded having to break the news to Vígdís' mother, but her daughter broke a royal decree. The sentence for this crime, death.

Carolus called for his guard to carry his daughter's body away. She would have been executed at dawn – but the prince beat him to it.

Vicious little viper... Nothing more than a thief. And she had her life stolen for her treachery.

**.**

The king's physician swept into Belshamena's chambers carrying a wooden case, and a worried frown on his brow. He was immediately assessing the situation. He studied what was on the floor, formally the contents of Belshamena's stomach. Blood, as well. Not a good sign. No... Or was it wine?

_Poor Belshamena_, the physician thought, _always such a sweet child_. He'd tended her when she was a babe. He knew her secret, but the child had been such a darling, he felt the supreme need to keep her protected. Hers was a secret he'd gladly take to his grave.

He saw her pale skin and felt the coldness that had set in on her limbs. Her breaths were almost non-existent.

She looked to be dead, but looks could be deceiving.

"It is the poison that is causing this. Though I am no great study on deadly toxins. I would hazard a guess. Hemlock is a possibility. We need to get her warmed up. Quickly, young man, put her on the bed."

Ewald did as he was told – lovingly situating her beneath the blankets, propping her up with the many pillows she had at her head. He made sure that she was comfortable and wrapped warmly. He wiped her skin clean of the sickness she had suffered.

The physician went to the fire pit, scraping away at some charred wood. "Young man," he said as he finished scooping his scrapings into a goblet. "See if you can get a fire going. It will help her."

The barbarian completed the task quickly and returned to Belshamena's side.

"It's a good thing that she vomited. It may have removed most of the poison from her system. Bring me fresh water, young man."

Ewald stepped to the door and tersely ordered a servant to bring fresh water and to hurry. He waited impatiently until the servant returned. Ewald closed the door on him after he'd given a quick nod of gratitude.

The king entered soon thereafter and stood at the foot of Belshamena's bed – out of the physician's way.

"How is she, Germanus?" the king asked of her caregiver.

"It is questionable right now, Your Majesty. I will know more in a few hours' time. Young man, see if you can get her to wake up, she needs to drink this concoction."

Ewald pulled the princess into his arms and used his chest as a prop for her back. He ran his hands soothingly up and down her arms and spoke directly into her ear. "Wake up, Belshamena, my love, please, wake up."

The king watched the prince with glittering eyes. His spoken endearments were the king's undoing. He fell to his knees at the foot of his daughter's bed and wept.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

Death hovered above Belshamena's bed. Lurked in the corners of her chambers. Death circulated around her, thick in the darkness, filled with greed and pulsating with lust for her spirit, ready and willing to take her ghost.

Ewald guarded Belshamena from death, almost as if he were keeping it at bay with a fiery torch and a sharp battle sword. Death kept circling in the darkness. Willing him to weaken his resolve.

Ewald would not let death win. He kept vigil by her side, always there, watching over her; caring for her with the deep healing love he hid in his heart.

He fought death's clutches for every second of her life.

She was not yet his wife, but he took to her care as a man aught for his woman. Ewald would do anything for Belshamena.

The physician, Germanus, told Ewald what to do to give aid to his beloved. Ewald kept her warm, kept her clean, and bathed her. He would place water and weak broth just under her tongue so that she would get some kind of nourishment. Ewald waged war for her life, because Belshamena was too weak to do it herself.

She was unconscious for two days. After that, her coherency was fleeting. She would dream, have terror-filled nightmares, scream out in her sleep, thrash and throw the blankets away from her body.

Ewald could not bear to see her struggle so. It tore at him – it was frightening, the violence of her fever induced hysteria. There was so much fever in her. She sweated and then she would shiver so hard her teeth chattered.

Ewald washed her heated flesh in cool water when she became overheated. Then he would wrap his own body around her when she began to shiver. The ebb and flow of hot and cold lasted a day and a night.

Germanus was optimistic of the process of her recovery. "The poison is working its way out of her body. She should come around at any time."

Ewald breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was exhausted. He'd worried so relentlessly for her – even his mind was burdened with weariness.

So weary.

Belshamena seemed to calm after the drastic bouts of hot and cold. She finally found peace in sleep. Her breathing was easy and even.

Ewald smiled as he watched over her – so happy that her recovery was within reach. The dark circles had faded from under her eyes, her skin glowed with renewed health, which had been absent in the last days.

Ewald was so tired – he had not slept in so long.

He decided, before he gave in to his fatigue, that he would change the coverings on her bed.

Ewald fixed a place on the floor by the fire pit to put Belshamena while he changed the linens the servants had left for him.

A fresh bed for his beloved.

After he'd placed her back in the soft bed, he couldn't resist joining her. He removed his boots and his tunic. He looked down at his leather breeches with a frown, but removed them as well. He'd never sleep comfortably with them on. That left him nude. He didn't think Belshamena would mind. She would most likely sleep for the remainder of the day. The door was barred – so no chance of anyone walking in on him.

He crawled under the fresh linens and took Belshamena in his arms. He breathed in deeply. Her sweet smell was back. The stench of death had abated. A light breeze brought in the comforting smell of jasmine from the balcony.

She was resting peacefully, but she cuddled closer to Ewald and his warmth. This pleased Ewald like nothing else. He held her tightly, enjoying the feel of her body through the soft gown he had dressed her in.

The exhaustion soon took hold and pulled Ewald into a deep slumber.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

She had dreamt of so many things.

She flew, as if she were a bird; the terrain beneath her blurring, blending together. She flew west, and as the sun burst through the clouds of morning, she found herself in a new location. This land was far away from her own, away from her father's palace. It was lush, green, and covered with trees and mountains. In this place, there was rain, blessed rain, which fell so infrequently in the heated deserts of her father's vast kingdom. Belshamena liked the rain in this green place. She found herself turning her face up to the water droplets as they fell from the gray clouded sky. She danced in the rain – twisting and twirling, feeling it pool beneath her feet, as it soaked heavily into her hair. And then she was flying home again.

So many dreams.

Not all of them were good dreams. Some of those dreams were scary. She felt smothered at times. The veil, her protection, her shield, was strangling her. She couldn't get it off. It wrapped around her so tightly, she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and couldn't open her mouth to scream for help. Those panic filled dreams were dreadful.

But _this_ dream, this dream was just lovely.

She was enveloped in a cocoon of warmth. The smell of fresh linens caught in her senses, as well as the fragrant jasmine blooms from her balcony. She'd always liked those smells. She took in a deep breath, just to enjoy them better.

But there was more to this dream than the sensations of warmth and the pleasant smells.

She was surrounded, snug and safe, inside the embrace of big, strong arms. Her face was pressed into a pillow of firm, living flesh. Had she ever dreamt of such in her life?

The pillow under her head growled. Was that right? Why would her dream pillow growl at her? It happened again, the reverberations rumbling and bouncing off the walls of her bed chamber. She made herself open her eyes. They didn't want to open.

There was nothing but complete darkness. She let her vision adjust, finally honing in on the silvery light pouring through the balcony archway.

Belshamena's pillow rose up, a slow, easy motion, and then growled once more.

She was so weak; she could hardly lift her head to see what was going on. Even her arms were weak and shaky.

Her hands were resting under her head. As she brought one out from its perch, her unsteady fingertips brushed against her pillow. The pillow choked and its growling was cut short. Then it groaned.

This made Belshamena giggle. She let her fingers brush again, a longer, slower motion. Her pillow shot upright, and sent her flopping to the bed without its support.

Oh. Her pillow wasn't a pillow, and her dream wasn't a dream.

She giggled again, feeling woozy and watery, especially at the abrupt change of position.

With what little light there was filtering into the room, she made out the shape of the back of a man. A large man. Almost as large as...

"Ewald?" she whispered through the darkness. The man's head whipped upright and he quickly turned to her.

"You're awake?" His voice was unbelieving, so full of surprise, thick with sleep.

"Yes, it would appear so. You snore." She stared up at him, at his outline. "What are you doing here, Ewald?"

He crawled back beside her and pulled her into his lap. "Oh, Belshamena, I was so..." He hugged her before he could finish speaking. Her body molded to his. "You almost died. You've been so sick. For days..." Ewald's tone was tortured.

She brought her hand to his face and stroked his short beard which had been growing over his strong jaw. Ewald caught her hand and pressed it tight to his cheek. Then he slid it to his lips and kissed her palm.

"My love, do you remember what happened?" he asked.

"I'm not quite sure. The last thing I remember is that I was supposed to be getting ready for our ceremony. It did not happen, did it?" she asked.

Ewald hesitated, but relayed the events that had taken place. "We did have the ceremony. But the bride was an imposter. One of your sisters... her name was Vígdís... she pretended to be you. I didn't know it wasn't you until after we sealed the union with a kiss. Your father and I made her reveal herself, and she admitted that she had poisoned you. Do you remember that?" Ewald gently rubbed circles at her back with his large hand. It was comforting, for the both of them.

"Yes," she whispered. "She came to my room. I thought father had sent her. She brought wine to me. She said that it was from father as well. I do remember drinking some... and then I do not recall anything else." Belshamena frowned. "You married Vígdís?" She stared up at Ewald with wide eyes.

"No. Vígdís is no longer a threat to you. Everyone thinks I married you. Only the king, the physician, and I know differently."

"I see," Belshamena mumbled. "And you have been sleeping here? In my bed?"

"Well, no. It's been nearly five days. I haven't left your side. I was so tired last night after you started improving that I could not stay awake any longer. I don't think I've slept but a few hours since you took ill. I could not rest until I knew you would be well again."

Belshamena smiled up at her betrothed. "You cared for me all this time?" So much time had passed...

"Yes, love, as best I could."

Belshamena was truly touched. "Thank you," she told him. And then she thought of all that would have happened in those days... all that he would have had to do in order to see to certain needs. She looked down and noticed that she had on one of her soft cotton sleeping gowns. Ewald must have dressed her in this.

Then Belshamena took note of what Ewald was wearing. No tunic... she shifted on his lap and gasped. No covering at all.

"You wear no clothes to bed, Prince Ewald?" she asked with a little shock in her voice.

"I try not to, depending on the seasons. It is very hot in your country, my love. I prefer sleeping in the nude. Especially here. I didn't think you would be waking for a while. I apologize if I have offended you."

_My love_. That was a nice endearment. Belshamena liked how Ewald said that to her.

"I'm not... not offended." Her fingers twisted nervously together in her lap.

"Are you still tired, Prince Ewald? You should sleep, after all that you've done for me. You deserve your rest."

"You don't have to address me so formal, Belshamena. Ewald will do."

"Ewald," she whispered with reverence. She touched his face one more time and then carefully slid out of his lap. She got comfortable on one side of the bed, resting back against the pillows. "Come and sleep. You look like you are tired." She beckoned him with a hand stretched across her linens.

She didn't look away as he stretched out on the other side of the bed. There were shadowy dips and planes that whispered for her fingers to reach out and touch them, explore them. There wasn't sufficient light to see much of his muscled body. She could just make out the mass of it. She trembled with anticipation at the thought of being able to touch him freely.

Ewald pulled the covers up around them both and stared at Belshamena from his pillow. There was a foot of space between them.

Belshamena hesitated for only a few seconds before she scooted over into his side. She laid her head on his chest, a familiar pillow, now, and relaxed in full contentment. His arm gripped carefully behind her back, holding her secure to his flank.

"I liked sleeping here. You do snore, though. I didn't know if you were aware of that... or not."

Her head bounced as Ewald laughed. "Surely not a loud snore. Think you?" he asked her amid a quivering yawn.

"Hmm..." she yawned as well. "No louder than a lion's roar."

The last sounds she heard were Ewald's chuckles and his steadily beating heart. Then she drifted into a peaceful sleep atop her betrothed's warm chest.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

Birds awoke her this time – singing for the rising sun right outside the large archway to the balcony. The light was new and pink and chasing the darkness away.

She was still resting atop her betrothed. He was snoring, but it was not as loud as it was last night.

Belshamena found herself admiring the prince's chest for the second time since she'd met him. She remembered the stories he had told her that traveled his map of scars. She laid still as she looked them over once again.

Then her gaze trailed lower, to his waist, to where the edge of the bed linens had slipped. There was not an ounce of soft fat on him that she could see. For such a large man, his waist was trim and neat and rippled with enticing little ridges and valleys of muscle – evidence of his constant training.

Her eye was drawn lower to where the linens rose in a curious manner. His knees where not upraised on the bed, yet there was something making a mountain peak under the covers.

Puzzled, Belshamena reared back her hand and swatted at it, with some force, to push it down. It didn't go down, but her pillow threw her away from it with an explosive upheaval. And with a high pitched howl, Ewald grabbed at the thing making a mountain.

"Damnation! Woman, do you mean to unman me?" he growled as he hunched over in the bed.

It was only then that Belshamena realized her grave mistake.

Belshamena covered her mouth, mortified at what she'd done. "I'm so sorry!" she squeaked. She stumbled off the bed, but still weak from her bout of illness, she fell to the floor with a yelp. Her legs did not yet have the strength to hold her up.

"Are you all right, Belshamena?" Ewald asked as she disappeared from his sight.

"I'm sorry! I did not realize..." Her words trailed off, for Ewald was standing over her now. In a split second glance, she saw _it_. The mountain.

Her mouth dropped open and she averted her face, flushing a deep red all over her body. Every part of her felt so hot, she feared the fever had returned.

"Did you hurt yourself, love?" he asked her, but she could not look at him.

"No. No... I hurt you," she blurted still keeping her face turned away from _it_.

He let out a great sigh and stooped to lift her off the floor. He settled her in the bed, but she would not meet his eyes, nor look upon any other part of him.

"Belshamena, you may as well have a good look at me. You have no reason to fear me or anything about me. I apologize that I scared you. I should not have yelled."

A few moments passed, but she did not acknowledge him.

"You didn't hurt me, love, you just," he paused, searching for the word. "Startled me, is all. Minor discomfort, nothing more. It's just that, it was about as unpleasant a way to be woken up in the morning as having a bucket of cold water thrown over your head. You see?"

Belshamena laughed shortly. "I saw something strange pushing up the linens. I did not think."

"Well," Ewald hedged, "there's nothing strange about this. It is perfectly natural. Please look at me, love."

Belshamena took a deep breath and rolled her head to the side, and looked into Ewald's worry-filled eyes. He smiled reassuringly and nodded. His hair fell down below his collarbones. Belshamena let her sight fill with his form; his broad chest, sloped and rounded, his firm belly narrowing down to his hips... and what looked to be the forearm of a child, shaking its fist at her.

Belshamena covered her mouth as she laughed. Arm of a child? He was certainly large.

"Well that's never the reaction a man wants to get when a woman is gazing upon his colossal manhood," Ewald grumbled as his eyebrows lowered darkly.

At the word colossal, Belshamena only laughed harder, covering her eyes and her mouth. It was just too funny. The situation had gotten away with her.

Amid a fit of giggles, Belshamena spluttered out another apology. Ewald snarled and pounced on the bed, straddling her, pinning her between his arms and legs.

"It's not very nice of you to laugh at your husband-to-be, love. I think I'm going to have to make you pay for your ridicule. Now, stop that sniggering and take your punishment." Ewald's lips were crushed into a thin, grim line, but his eyes were dancing and crinkled at the corners as he looked down at her.

"Punishment!" Belshamena yelped. "But I've done nothing! What sort of punishment?"

"You have _so_ done something," he growled. "You've gravely wounded my manly pride. I would assault you with an attack of relentless tickling, but that would only set you off again. You will just have to take your punishment in the form of... kisses."

Her face was beginning to hurt from all the laughing and smiling. "I am truly sorry you found my laughing so damaging, Ewald. It was not your manly pride which I found so comical… just a few errant thoughts that came to my mind. Forgive me? Please?" Belshamena pouted a little.

Ewald sighed dramatically. "My love, I could never hold anything against you. Yes, you are forgiven. But, I am afraid that I must continue with your punishment. It would do neither of us any good if I did not follow through." Ewald was outright smiling now; a sensual smile that hinted at great secrets that only _he_ could reveal.

Belshamena admired that smile as she brought her hands up to his waist. The muscles of his abdomen clenched and quivered as she moved her hands slowly upward. To touch him was divine.

The noises Ewald made were a combination of a sigh and a hum and a groan. "My love," he whispered into her skin. "There is surely magic in your hands. I feel it every time you touch me." He closed his eyes, absorbing Belshamena's tender, feather-light touch.

She sighed at his words. "Ewald, I felt magic in your lips the first time you kissed me, and every time since. You stir such a feeling inside me. I hardly want it to stop."

"Then we shan't let it stop," he whispered before his lips brushed hers. He nibbled and teased with little touches, warming her up before completely burning her with the heat of his desire.

**.**

Soon, Ewald could not hold himself in check and took all that her lips could give. His tongue lashed out and demanded that she open to him. When she did, his tongue invaded her, waged war with hers, and then he retreated when they were both breathless and panting.

Ewald had nestled his hips in the cradle of Belshamena's lower body. The natural desire to pump himself against her was difficult to resist. He dropped his mouth to her neck and suckled at the softest skin he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The sounds of delight that fell from her honeyed mouth fueled the burning fires encouraging him to take her and make her his. His over sensitized flesh was greedily seeking to make purchase deep within her womanly heat. The barrier of soft cotton between them was the only thing keeping him from plunging. If it was not there, he'd lose himself to the pleasures that waited inside her.

He pulled his hips away from her, almost forgetting that she was only just recovering from days of sickness. These activities would have to wait.

"Forgive me, Belshamena, your strength has not even returned to you. You need to rest and take a meal. My barbarian blood is driving me mad to have you," Ewald panted into her neck.

"Ewald, I enjoy how you make me feel… do not apologize for that."

He kissed her once more, lingering, loving her giving flesh. Then he pulled back and smiled.

"Very soon, my love, we will make a new kind of magic together. But first… I need to take care of you. And then I will fetch your father. He will want to know you have awakened. And then…we will be married."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Characters:_

_Belshamena – (Bell-shah-meen-ah) Bella_

_Ewald – (E-vahlt) Edward_

* * *

Emmelric had sought audience with the king, asking permission to visit Roshanak in her chambers. The king grudgingly allowed it when he found that Emmelric's motives were of an innocent nature. He had a gift he wanted to deliver to his chosen in person.

A guard led him to her chambers, which were situated at the very back of the palace, a very quiet part of the palace.

Emmelric waited to knock until the guard had removed himself from earshot. He wondered how his visit would be received by his betrothed. He had an inkling that it would not go smoothly.

But this did not deter Emmelric.

The harder she resisted, the sweeter their union would be – especially when the two of them reached a friendly, and quite possibly, loving understanding.

Emmelric pounded lightly on her chamber door and patiently waited for his woman to answer.

The door cracked open only the slightest bit, and Roshanak let just her head peek through, a curious expression lighting her alluring face. But when she spotted Emmelric, the tiniest hint of fear clouded her eyes, just before her usual steel resolve fell into place and wiped all other emotion away.

Emmelric did not miss the fearful glint as she glared up at him. Why would she fear him? Emmelric did not believe, before now, that anything could scare the stone cold Roshanak.

"Princess, may I come in and sit with you for a while?" Emmelric asked of his bride-to-be.

Roshanak did not hesitate to answer crisply. "No, you may not." She promptly closed the door on his nose.

Outward reaction did not show on Emmelric's face, but inside, a spark of energy, wild but caged, raced through his veins. Did she not know that the hunt and the chase made their courtship so much more... thrilling?

_Yes_, Emmelric decided. She _must_ know.

He knocked again, as calmly and patiently as before.

And just as before, only her face showed through the opening. This time, she hissed, "Go away! You do not belong here!"

She tried slamming the door again, but Emmelric had managed to keep that from happening by placing the toe of his boot in the door's path.

"I have permission from your father to visit you. He knows I am here. So, yes, I do belong here. For the moment, Princess."

Frustration made the princess' lips thin into a tight line before her angry brown eyes flashed and she used all her might to crush Emmelric's toes between the door and the frame. He growled as he pulled his throbbing foot away. The princess was strong – and he liked her all the more for it.

Emmelric found himself staring at her closed door once more. She was toying with him. He was certain of this. He had to stifle a rare smile.

He waited a moment. Then he waited two. There was no other noise coming from the other side of the door, so he assured himself that she was not standing in the way.

Emmelric reared back, using the strength and the weight of his massive barbarian body, and kicked in the heavy door to her chamber – splintering the bolt from the wood.

The loud crash surprised and frightened Roshanak. She backed herself against a wall and stared up at Emmelric with widened, wild eyes as he filled the archway.

The loud crash also upset someone else within the princess' chambers. Emmelric's ears automatically tuned in to the sound of a soft cry, which was rapidly growing into a loud wail.

Why was there a babe's cry coming from inside Roshanak's rooms?

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	19. Chapter 19

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

_Chapter warning: Mature content.  
_

* * *

Ewald held tightly to his betrothed's hand as she became his wife in a private ceremony on her balcony. He had refused to let her out of his sight since she had come awake that morning. And she wore no veil, at his request, as they pledged themselves to one another.

Now the sun was setting and King Carolus left them alone, eyes shining as he pulled the door closed.

There was a small feast prepared, just for them. Ewald settled Belshamena onto a plush seat and kissed her before filling a plate for the both of them to share.

"This is the first time I've ever had dining partner while supping in this room. And never in my most secret dreams did I ever think I'd have a husband to sit down to a meal with," Belshamena mused.

Ewald stared down at his wife. She was lovely to him. Her face was uncovered, and a simple silver diadem was woven through her wavy hair at the top of her head. The blemishes on the right side of her face shadowed in comparison to the happy smile spread across her perfect lips. The curves of her body, which were accentuated by the fitted gown she wore, drew his eye. He'd glimpsed parts of her while he cared for her, but he never took advantage and explored, not while she was ill. He could not wait for what the two of them would share together later in the evening.

"Did you not want a marriage? Before I asked for your hand, that is." Ewald asked of her.

Belshamena blinked in response. "No, Ewald." She absently raised a hand to the blemished side of her face. "It is not something that I ever dared to hope for."

"But," Ewald persisted, "did you _want_ a husband?"

"Not until you," she whispered as she smiled up at him. A flutter of excitement glided its way down his body as she said the words.

Ewald took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "My love," he breathed, "I want you to have no doubt of my affections for you. Our life will be an adventure, and when we leave for my country, things will be very different. But always know that I will protect you and care for you." He kissed her hand again and then let his eyes meet hers.

"Will we be happy together, Ewald?"

"Of course we will. My family will love you, my mother will adore you, and our children will cherish you, and my father…"

"Wait." Belshamena gulped loudly, interrupting. "Children? Ewald… but what if… what if they are born like me? I never thought… Of course, you would need children... strong sons..."

"Belshamena," his arms came around her to pull her close and comfort her. "Our children will be beautiful. You will see."

"But..." she started to protest.

"Beautiful." Ewald kissed her forehead.

"What if..." she shook her head.

"Beautiful," he whispered against her ruined eye.

"Ewald..."

"Beautiful," he murmured over her lips before he captured them. Their mouths moved so smoothly together, he never wanted to remove himself from them.

He whispered "Beautiful" again, and a single cleansing tear leaked from Belshamena's damaged eye.

Ewald lifted his little wife into his arms, all thoughts of their meal forgotten. Now was the time to show her just how beautiful he believed her to be.

Her soft body molded to the steel of his arms and chest as he cradled her, carrying her to the bedchamber. His kisses fell on her lips, her hair, and her nose before he placed her on the edge of the bed.

Ewald knelt and slipped the decorated shoes from her feet. He traced the arch over her left foot and let his hand slide up her slender ankle – its shape so delicate and fine.

"Your hands make the most wondrous friction against my skin, husband."

Ewald hummed in pleasure. "I like that very much." He pinned her with a seductive gaze.

Belshamena shivered upon seeing the naked desire in his eyes. "What is it that you like so much?" she said, barely a whisper.

Ewald sat beside her on the bed and removed his boots. There was a lopsided smile on his lips. Next he took his belt and pulled it from around his waist. Then his wedding tunic joined the pile on the floor.

"I liked that you called me husband," he murmured deeply.

He pulled Belshamena to stand before him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He gently removed the silver diadem, unwinding it from her soft hair. He gathered a handful of her hair and brought it to his nose. He breathed in the sweet perfumed smell. A rose in its fullest bloom.

Ewald moved her hair off her left shoulder where jeweled toggles held her dress in place. He slid them away and let the silky material fall from around her body. Belshamena's breaths hitched as the last of the dress hit the floor. Ewald did not take his eyes from hers for long moments.

"Most wondrous," he whispered as he finally scrutinized every part of her that was laid bare before him. His large, rough hand blazed a path from the hollow of her throat, over the swell of her left breast and pink nipple, down to her navel. Ewald could feel Belshamena tremble beneath his touch.

Ewald looked back to her face; her lips were parted in a silent cry of pleasure. He smiled and then let his hand move lower.

He caressed both of her thighs and her hips with rapt attentions. Belshamena had leaned over to steady herself with her hands on his shoulders by the time he reached her soft inner thighs. Ewald had never felt anything softer.

She was breathing hard, now. Ewald smiled at the look of total concentration on her face. This business of pleasure was all very new to her.

Ewald's flesh was straining painfully against the leathers he still wore. He removed his hands from Belshamena only long enough to shuck his breeches from his hips and down his legs in one quick movement.

He breathed a sigh of relief as his unwavering erection sprang free of its confines. Then he pulled Belshamena closer, settling her to sit on his knees with her legs bent and straddling his waist. He smiled as she relaxed around him.

"My love, my wife," he whispered in between the kisses that fell from her soft lips.

His arms encircled her fully and pulled her chest to his chest. He could feel the softness of her breasts against his hard muscle. It was soothing and arousing at the same time.

Soon, he snaked an arm between them and brought the flat of his brawny hand to moist folds of her womanhood. He was so very gentle as he spread her, watching her expressive face closely, kissing her cheek, her bottom lip – afraid to close his eyes and miss how she reacted to his touch.

Her eyelids fluttered and her hands clamped tightly on the muscles at his upper arms as he manipulated between her legs. She whimpered when the pad of his thumb landed on a particularly sensitive bud nestled within her flesh. Ewald circled it, teased it, spread her dampness over it.

Belshamena's forehead dropped to Ewald's stout shoulder. "What is it that you do to me?" she panted. Her little accelerated breaths puffed against his heated skin.

"Is it enjoyable?" he asked lowly, savoring her scent and her warmth.

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"It is only the beginning, love." Ewald eased the tip of a wet finger to the opening of her most intimate heat, where his straining manhood longed to be thrust into. But first, he had to make himself welcome.

He slipped his finger gently inside her just as he laved his tongue up the side of her neck. His mouth came to rest at her ear, and he suckled on the soft skin beneath it. Belshamena melted further into his arms.

Ewald's finger delved upward within her as he curled his hand and continued to rasp his palm against the highly sensitized bud at the apex of her folds. His hand moved rhythmically and with a moan, Belshamena ground her hips with and against his hand.

Her hands were clawing at his shoulders, now. Her breaths quivered her chest and stomach as Ewald continued the delightful torment. His hand dipped and cupped and he let slip another finger inside her. He worked at easing her open and pleasurably preparing her.

Ewald massaged her ceaselessly, mercilessly, until she began to cry out. Then he pulled his hand away, hearing her whisper, "No, please, do not stop."

He coated his own flesh with her sweet moisture and then positioned her hips over his. "Belshamena, please look up at me."

As she raised her eyes to his, Ewald pressed the head of his straining rod at the waiting opening his fingers had just retreated from. Belshamena's eyes widened as she felt the rounded tip nudging her, advancing upward.

"Hold on tight, love. If it hurts, feel free to take your vengeance out on my shoulder and bite down. Do you understand?" Belshamena bit her lip and nodded. Her eyes were still wide and wary. She wrapped her arms about his strong neck.

Ewald kissed her lip free of her teeth and murmured to her, "You have no reason to fear. There may be a bit of pain, but do not fear it. You are a barbarian's wife, now." He kissed her deeply. He waited until she relaxed against him once more before delivering a powerful up thrust with his hips.

Belshamena choked on a yelp before she sunk her teeth into the meaty part if his shoulder. Ewald grunted from the pain of the bite and from the pleasure of her writhing body impaled on his voracious member.

He kept still beneath her so that she could become acquainted with his girth, letting her body adjust to him deep inside her. He, himself, was trying to adjust. It was agony to be so still, but it was ecstasy to finally be in her, surrounded by her. His heart swelled, nearly overflowing with the love he had for her.

She soon calmed, letting loose his hide from betwixt her teeth. Ewald smoothed his hands up and down her back. He kissed down her neck, around her delicate collarbones. He held her body tenderly to his and started to gently rock his hips. Belshamena groaned with each back-and-forth movement and her hands convulsively kneaded his upper arms.

Before long, her groans yielded to sighs and her hips tentatively moved against Ewald's.

Ewald lowered a hand between them again, seeking out the place that would give her the most spine-tingling pleasure and to help spike her desire.

Belshamena responded immediately, bending her lithe form backward, reveling in their lovemaking. She held onto his shoulders as Ewald began bucking his hips as he continued to stroke her with his hand.

"Ewald," she wailed. "Something is… happening!"

She bounced against him and Ewald felt the last few threads of his restraint begin to fray. He worked diligently to bring her to release. Soon her insides clamped and convulsed around him and he knew thrilling victory. She fell against him as the tides of rapture washed over her.

"Ewald, Ewald..." she chanted, open-mouthed and disbelieving.

Using both hands to grab hold of her hips, he picked up momentum and undulated his hips, working his shaft in and out of her at an unrelenting pace. And with one last stab, he found his own gratification.

Ewald shuddered beneath her, eventually collapsing back against the bed, bringing Belshamena to lie atop him.

Sleep began to take him until he felt Belshamena's lips place kisses all over his chest.

Ewald laughed thickly, cracking his eyelids open to watch her. Her face was lit in such a happy manner. He gripped her smiling face between his hands and stroked his thumbs over her smooth skin.

"I love you, Belshamena... more than the grains of sand in your father's desert."

She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling largely. "Ewald... I cannot help myself but love you. I think I was meant to love you. Just you."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	20. Chapter 20

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

Roshanak - (_Rosh-han-ack_) Rosalie

Emmelric - Emmett

Iyaswic - (_Yahz-vik_) Jasper

Avila - (_Ah-veel-ah_) Alice

* * *

Roshanak cowered.

She never cowered. She was never weak.

There were only a very few times in her life when she had shown real weakness.

And as her betrothed stood in the gaping hole of her busted doorway, looking every bit the cold-hearted barbarian, she felt weakness and fear seep through the cracks in her strong exterior.

And as the tiny babe hidden in her chambers started crying, she feared that her world had come to its end.

She had kept it all such a great secret. For nearly nine cycles of the moon, she had hidden the little burden that had swelled her belly. Then, only twelve days ago, she stole away in secret, dressing as a servant girl, when the time had come to birth the babe, coming to the door of a midwife deep within the village. Roshanak had saved a good bit of coin to keep the midwife quiet after the babe was born.

Even when the babe had ripped its way out of her body, she had remained strong.

The pain of childbirth was nothing compared to being on the brink of such a scandalous discovery in the midst of her father's house.

And here stood her betrothed. Never had she held anyone in such contempt as she held him. She hated him with a passion. Almost as much as she hated another man, whose name she could scarce think on without hitting something. Maybe she held every man in contempt.

Roshanak contemplated telling Emmelric that the child was her sister, and belonged to her mother. She was sure she could pull off the ruse without hindrance, but she knew her lies would only dig her deeper into trouble. What would happen to her little girl when she would be forced to leave this place?

Emmelric would soon discover that she was not a virgin and then he would be well within his rights to put her to death because of her indiscretions.

She had no choice but to tell him the truth.

She opened her mouth to explain, but no sound left her. Emmelric just stared her down; his eyes were the only soft things set amongst the hard planes of his forehead and cheekbones.

Roshanak was surprised at the feel of tears trailing down her cheeks as she pleaded with him with her own eyes.

She flinched when her betrothed turned away, his shoulders taut, his fists clenched. She expected him to leave, to leave and find her father right away. And then the whole kingdom would know of her shame come morning.

"_P-please_!" rushed out of her, propelled from deep within her – from the very depths of her heart. Roshanak had never begged for anything in her life. More tears fell from her eyes.

Emmelric's head bowed to his chest. She watched sides heave as he breathed, his fists clench and unclench. The next thing he did surprised her even more than when he'd forced his way into her chambers.

He pushed her battered door upright again, and he wedged a loosed plank against it so that no one could enter from the other side. He even ripped down a small tapestry from the wall beside the door and crammed the cloth into the gap where the bolt had broken away the wood.

He spun about, causing Roshanak to shrink further away from him. The babe continued to cry, loudly and lustily.

Still silent, Emmelric finally removed his eyes from Roshanak's, and ventured into the next room.

Another real fear gripped her heart as she watched the barbarian stalk into her bedchamber and to where she knew her child was placed.

She would not let him hurt her!

What she saw as she entered her chamber made her heart stop, and then slam painfully into the back of her ribs.

Emmelric held the tiny babe in his humongous hands. Panic stricken, a sudden nausea gripped Roshanak's gut. But then Emmelric smiled down at the little bundle. Only then did she recognize that her little girl had quieted in the barbarian's hold. Her stomach eased, the nausea turning to shock when she heard Emmelric cooing softly at the child.

Roshanak put a hand over her heart and a hand over her mouth to try and contain the strange rush of feeling that was, so violently, trying to pour out of her at the sight of the fearsome warrior cradling and rocking her secret babe in his arms. She stumbled to her bed and sat at the foot of it. Tears washed anew from her eyes, dripping off her chin.

"What a little beauty," Emmelric softly purred in his deep tones. "Just as lovely as your mother."

Though she kept quiet at the remark, Roshanak felt anything but lovely or beautiful. For months and months she had felt nothing but the crushing shame of unworthiness.

Emmelric sat beside her on the bed. The hard lines of his face had softened in the presence of Roshanak's daughter. She stared at her betrothed as he continued to murmur and caress the babe's face. Soon the little one began to doze off, falling asleep in Emmelric's arms.

Roshanak leaned over his arm and kissed her babe's forehead. Emmelric gently laid the child back in the crib that Roshanak had hastily fashioned from an old basket.

There was such an awkward silence between them. Roshanak chanced a look up at the man beside her. He watched her intently, and she knew that he was waiting for her to explain, for she was sure he would never ask her outright what had happened.

"Must you always be so stoic, barbarian?" Roshanak croaked, drying the rest of her tears.

"I know not what else I should be, Princess." He met her gaze directly. Open. Waiting. Expectant.

He was an honest man, a man who avoided deception. Roshanak saw that he would not cater to coquettish ways. The simple truth held power in his eyes, and was more than sufficient for a man like him. He would not require dramatics, only… truth.

"I used to spend every waking moment in the stables," she sighed as she began. "Even when I was told to stay out of them. But I love horses. And my father has such fine horses. I found enjoyment in riding them as well. One of the horse masters took great interest in teaching me to ride, and to work with the animals. We bonded over our common likes. We had a friendship, or so I'd thought. I never encouraged affection from him, and his behavior was never untoward.

"B-but… the last day I ever went to the stables… there was no one else around, except for him. N-no one came to h-help me when I screamed. And I screamed and screamed... s-so loud. There was no one. Nobody." Her chest burned with such rage, and such desperate bleakness. There had been no one to help her then, as she lay in an empty stall at the far corner of the stable, and no one to help her since – simply because she could not risk telling a soul.

"I make everyone around me to hate me so that they will leave me to myself. That is the only way I can stay safe. It is the only way I can keep my daughter safe. Aside from me, you are the only person that knows she even exists."

She took a deep breath before speaking again. "I wasn't going to bring her home with me." Roshanak curled in on herself, reaching up to hide her eyes from Emmelric's earnest ones. "Before my time came, I planned on leaving her somewhere for another woman to raise. But I changed my mind. As soon as I held her in my arms, she was mine. My child. I could not leave her behind. And I… I cannot lose her now."

"You will not lose your child, Roshanak. I will make sure that does not happen," he spoke calmly to her, though she cried again in such sorrow.

"But what of the horse master?" he asked. "Is he in the stable at this very moment? Does he walk this kingdom without the mantle of blame placed upon his shoulders? Has he not paid for his transgressions?" Emmelric's voice lowered and then transposed into an icy roar. His body stiffened, poised and ready to fight.

Roshanak scooted away from the barbarian. "I do not know, nor do I care. I scarce leave this room for fear that I will see him. I see him often enough in the terrors of my sleep. No one can know, Prince Emmelric. I cannot place blame where it would only bring ruin to me. I... have so much at risk." Roshanak fingered the soft linens that kept her sleeping babe warm.

"Princess Roshanak, I would have the name of the man who has wronged you. He will find his punishment at the deadly end of my sword."

Roshanak paused, held her breath. It would be so easy to utter the name. It would be so easy to let this barbarian kill him.

But Roshanak could not say it. She shook her head, unable to meet the prince's eyes.

"Do you protect him?" he stormed in anger.

"No... never..." Roshanak whispered. More tears began to well in her eyes.

"Then why do you not tell me?" he growled.

"Because it is you that I protect." A fat tear fell to the princess' lap. "The horse master is one of the king's own sons."

**.**

Insufferable, tedious woman!

Iyaswic had his doubts... they were more than doubts, really. He was sure he had chosen the wrong daughter to be his bride.

What was he to do with such a frivolous female when he got back to his barbaric homeland?

His betrothed, Avila, babbled incessantly, and paraded him about the courtyard, gloating and gossiping with anyone and everyone they encountered. He had yet to discover any common ground between them.

Avila frustrated him to the point where he was ready to yank the hair out of his scalp.

Iyaswic invited her for a walk around the palace, and the event had been similar to the showing of horseflesh to a potential emptor. Iyaswic being the horseflesh.

He had hoped for a quiet, obedient wife. Someone he could look upon and find peace in. Someone who would need him for manly tasks and things of that nature. Not someone who would out-talk even a tongue such as his.

She was turmoil.

She was beautiful, yes, and he desired her. But this was not how he had imagined their days before the ceremony to go. He had hoped to be able to charm her, impress her with his strength and skill at the sword. But Iyaswic could not get a foothold as she chattered and talked and gushed to everyone else around them. Iyaswic may as well have been elsewhere for as much attention as she actually paid him.

After a short tour, Iyaswic promptly delivered her back to her chambers, closing the door crisply in her little Fey face.

He deposited her there without even a civil word.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	21. Chapter 21

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

Roshanak - (_Rosh-han-ack_) Rosalie

Emmelric - Emmett

Iyaswic - (_Yahz-vik_) Jasper

Avila - (_Ah-veel-ah_) Alice

* * *

Emmelric left Roshanak and her babe after repairing the door he had smashed. He departed her chambers with mixed emotions on what he had learned about his betrothed.

Roshanak had gone through that horrid ordeal – and she had done it all alone. Again, Emmelric found her strength to be a most impressive attribute.

A babe. _She had a babe_. At first, a murderous rage had burned like boiling water through his veins. But he calmed as soon as he picked up the little girl and held her in his arms. In his country, children were revered as blessings that even the whole of the community cherished. A living, healthy child was a precious gift.

This babe was so tiny, it mustn't have been but days old. Emmelric melted as the sweet child grabbed onto his large thumb, wrapping its tiny hand around it. He silently promised the little babe that she would never want for anything.

Emmelric found that he was morbidly relieved that the babe was not the result of Roshanak having willingly taken a lover. But he was angered that she would not reveal the name of the man who had violated her so foul.

He would have his revenge, whether Roshanak spoke the name of her attacker or not.

Even now, as his jaws ground his teeth together, the desire to tear off to the royal stables and kill all the horse masters simmered just under the surface of his control. He wanted the evil bastard dead. Combined with that was the worry of getting his betrothed and her child away from this country, and to a safer place, without their secret being discovered. The tingling sensation making his hair stand on end told them that he had to get them home and away from here – as soon as humanly possible.

He was in the chambers assigned to him and his brothers for the duration of their visit when Iyaswic joined him.

Emmelric looked up at his brother's entrance, then went back to working on the rosewood box he'd begun to build. Iyaswic looked about as unhappy as Emmelric felt. But working methodically on some project always helped him to think more clearly.

"I believe I have made a grave error," Iyaswic blurted.

"What error would that be?" Emmelric asked without looking up at his brother.

"I think I have chosen the wrong woman to be my bride," Iyaswic mumbled.

Emmelric reared back, hooting with mirthless laughter. "You think _you_ have chosen wrongly? Why is that?" He calmed and then went back to carving.

"She is such a waste of good breathing air. She parades me about like a prize – chatters without stopping – and talks of nothing but her fine clothes and slippers and jewels." Iyaswic growled as he finished ranting.

"Give the woman a chance. It is only the excitement of being chosen that drives her tongue. She needs time. I doubt there will be problems in your relationship." Emmelric gave the easy advice as he continued to carve and cut.

"Problems? What would you know of problems, little brother? All you care about is making some silly bauble! I'd wager you do not have near the trouble as I have had with dealing with my little bride-to-be." Iyaswic crossed his arms and glared down at Emmelric.

Emmelric sprung to his feet, scattering his tools and his tedious work. He pounced violently on Iyaswic, gripping his neck tightly between his massive hands. Then he started applying pressure to Iyaswic's throat with his thumbs.

"You do not know a thing about trouble! Trouble flows like a river these halls. Do not insult me with your snide drivel! You may be more like your betrothed than you would like to admit, you pompous bastard!" Emmelric threw Iyaswic away from him and turned in disgust. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to regain some control. Trying to calm the turmoil within him.

"Emmelric," Iyaswic croaked after a time. His tone changed from sullen to surprised. "What is it that troubles you, brother?"

There was silence before Emmelric took in a deep breath. "So many things," he choked out softly. "I think I need to speak with Ewald. He may be able to offer help. Or advise me."

Iyaswic laid a compassionate hand on Emmelric's shoulder. "You are always level-headed, little brother. Whatever is troubling you, it must be bad. Come, I think it is time to pay a visit to the happy couple."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	22. Chapter 22

**The Shimmering Veil**  
written by  
Maddux

* * *

Roshanak - (_Rosh-han-ack_) Rosalie

Emmelric - Emmett

Iyaswic - (_Yahz-vik_) Jasper

* * *

Emmelric knocked on the door to Princess Belshamena's chambers – where he and Iyaswic had been directed when they asked for their brother Ewald.

Ewald appeared at the door several moments later, disheveled in appearance, and clad in nothing but a wrinkled bed linen. His brow lowered as he gave his brothers the evil eye.

"You know you are interrupting my time with my new bride, do you not?" Ewald blocked the entrance with both arms braced on either side of the door.

"Yes, well, shimmy your arse into a tunic and have a talk with us. We need your help." Iyaswic shouldered his way in past Ewald.

"Get out, both of you! I'm in no humor to entertain guests," Ewald spit.

"We have not come to be entertained, brother. We have a few things we would like to discuss with you." Iyaswic snooped around the room before Ewald grabbed him and tossed him into Belshamena's sitting chambers. Emmelric followed quietly behind them.

Ewald growled and told them, "Try not to destroy anything," before he shuffled into another room, clutching the linens to hide his nakedness, dragging the tails of the cloth on the floor behind him.

Emmelric and Iyaswic sat awkwardly in the feminine room, waiting. The trill of soft feminine laughter perked their ears, as well as their brother's rumbling voice. A moment later, delighted squeals pierced the silence around them.

"Ewald, stop that!" More giggles erupted, coming from the bedchamber.

"Come and meet my brothers, love," they heard Ewald say. Then there was nothing but silence.

A short while later, Ewald emerged with his little bride behind him.

Emmelric could tell that she was afraid; she clung closely to Ewald's side. He could also tell that she was very beautiful, though he could not get a good view of her. She did not face him or Iyaswic as she took a cushion beside Ewald.

"Belshamena, I would like you to meet Emmelric, my youngest brother, and Iyaswic, our middle brother." Belshamena merely nodded, her left eye large and round. There was the tiniest of timid smiles on her lips. Then her gaze immediately turned back to Ewald.

"Why are you here?" Ewald asked as he cuddled Belshamena closer to his side.

Emmelric glanced sharply at Belshamena. "I don't know that this is suited for her to hear. It is about– "

"Belshamena stays." Ewald emphasized his point by tightening his arm around his wife.

Emmelric sighed, but gave a curt nod. "Brother, I do not believe that this place agrees with the likes of me. I have to make plans to move a newborn babe out of this kingdom undetected."

Both Emmelric's brothers let out surprised exclamations, and even Belshamena looked shocked.

"What?" Ewald choked. "Are you... What?"

"Let me explain." Emmelric scrubbed a hand over his face. "The child belongs to my betrothed." He paused as everyone expressed their disbelief once again.

"She has kept the babe, her pregnancy, the birth – everything – a secret. She's had to, I suppose. She is very much afraid of losing the child."

"As well she should. You've a promiscuous woman on your hands, brother," Ewald voiced his opinion.

"It is _not_ her fault!" Emmelric roared as he stood to his feet and began to pace. "She was assaulted by one of the horse masters in the royal stables – against her will! She is not at fault. And she refuses to tell me who hurt her." Emmelric's hands ran through his short dark hair. "She said it was one of the king's sons who assaulted her."

Belshamena caught her breath. "No!" she whispered.

"I am sorry, Princess, if this is too much... I just... I am at a loss."

"No, Emmelric, do not worry over me. I will gladly offer aid." All eyes landed on the princess.

The two brothers' eyes showed surprise as they saw the entirety of the princess' face for the first time. They stared, dumbfounded by her scars. Belshamena quickly realized her blunder and turned back to Ewald. He only smiled at her and lifted her chin.

"You have no need of hiding around from brothers, love. Is that not so?" he directed toward Emmelric and Iyaswic.

Both provided her with a solemn nod.

Emmelric cleared his throat before he asked, "How is it you can offer aid, Princess?"

"I have the King's ear. He would do anything for me," she explained.

"Will he let me kill the bastard that violated my betrothed?" Emmelric barked.

Belshamena visibly withdrew into her husband's side, and Emmelric immediately regretted his harsh words. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I am sorry, Princess Belshamena. Forgive me for my outburst?"

Belshamena nodded, but kept her eyes trained on Ewald's chest.

"I do not think, Princess, that Roshanak will reveal who the beast is. She is more than afraid she will lose the child. She believes that the King would punish her for what has transpired." Emmelric paused and looked down at his dusty boots. "I want to leave this country and keep the babe a secret as we do so. As much as it would please me to find the horse master and show him the meaning of a painful death, Roshanak and the babe should come first. They are what matter most to me."

"So you mean to help raise Roshanak's bastard child as your own? How will you explain this to mother and father?" Ewald asked.

"Of course, she will be raised as my own. And she will not know that she is a bastard child! _Damnation_, Ewald... mother and father have just become... grandmother and grandfather." Emmelric sat, deflated at this news. He had not thought much of what his mother and father might say at his new status.

Ewald threw back his head, and laughed. "Emmelric is the first to have a babe! Mother will have something to say about that."

"So, we must smuggle a newborn out of this kingdom. That should be easy enough," Iyaswic voiced. "I, on the other hand, wish to revoke my choice of bride."

"Absolutely not." Ewald sobered and glared at Iyaswic. "You will keep the one you chose. The deal has already been struck with King Carolus. Just as Emmelric, I, too, want to leave this place as soon as possible. Belshamena was poisoned by one of her sisters on the day of our ceremony. I have no wish to remain longer than necessary. Keep the girl you chose, Iyaswic. You will have to work out an agreeable arrangement with her."

"I am sorry to hear that you were harmed, Princess. You are well, now?" Emmelric asked of Belshamena.

"Yes, Emmelric, quite well. Ewald cared for me in my greatest time of need. I am a most fortunate woman." She smiled at Ewald as he kissed the back of her hand.

Longing struck Emmelric as he gazed at his eldest brother and new sister. Would that he and Roshanak could find a similar happiness between them, he would be a most thankful man.

"What is your plan for getting your wee babe out of here in secret, Emmelric?" Ewald asked.

"I have devised a ruse. I am going to gift a small dog to Princess Roshanak, and with it, a small carrying box. The dog is not important, but the box, it will hide the babe inside. I have already begun to craft it. Should the scheme work, no one will be the wiser if she carries her betrothed's gift out of her chambers. I do not know what else to do. I only hope that it will work."

Ewald stroked his chin as he contemplated Emmelric's plan. "It has the potential to work..."

"I could ask my father for a covered carpentum. That way, we could travel out of the city gates with a good amount of privacy. I could play my harp to cover the sounds, should the babe cry."

Emmelric came to stand, only to kneel a moment later at Belshamena's feet. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I count you as a most beloved sister. You would truly take the weight of the world from my heart should you ask this of your father. I thank you, and I am in your debt," Emmelric spoke reverently.

Belshamena granted him a pleased smile and whispered, "I am honored to count you as a brother, Emmelric. Do not be troubled, now, I will make certain that we are protected as we leave. Do carry on with your plan. No one will suspect a babe should they see Roshanak carrying a box. I know you do fine work." She raised her arm and revealed the bracelet that Emmelric had made.

Emmelric kissed the largest gemstone on the bracelet. "It suits you, sister.

"When do we leave, brother?" Emmelric looked to Ewald.

Ewald contemplated for a moment. "Depending on when we can get these tasks completed. Mayhap we can push for smaller ceremonies for you two. Belshamena, you will seek conference with your father about the carpentum. Emmelric, you put your ruse into action. And Iyaswic, you make peace with your betrothed! If we can get these things in order, we may not have to stay here but a few more days."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


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